To spread his light
by Simpli
Summary: "No army is big enough to conquer the galaxy. But faith alone can overturn the universe", Missionaries are skilled in oration, manipulation, and subtly changing a culture to bring it into line with the Imperial Cult, replacing the gods of the existing pantheon with Imperial Saints, they are also often skilled warriors not above the use of brute force.
1. Greetings in the name of the God-Emperor

The sun was rising over the rolling hills of Medusa IV, a planet which was not yet graced with the light of civilization, divided between hundreds of savage tribes who fought from horseback and wielded armaments ranging from swords and bows to the odd lasgun which had originally served on the colony ship which once seeded this planet with human life.

For Millennia the Medusans had lived independent and forgotten by the larger galaxy, their lives shaped by the harsh winter and the ever present threat of neighbouring tribes who wanted nothing more or less than stealing the horses or conquer the grox hunting grounds.

This was about to change:

Crying their war cries and raising their lances the largest tribe coalition, which had ever ridden over the plains of Medusa, was gathering in front of their last nemesis' bulwark.

Their clothes were adorned by the symbol of the holy maiden.

A maiden who was found ten years ago alone in the plains; wearing an otherworldly white robe made from fabrics far too delicate and sturdy at the same time to be made from human hands. The hunters who had found her immediately brought her to the tribe's shaman in the belief that her appearance was heralding the beginning of a new chance for their tribe.

Then the Farhula, the tribe of said hunters, was the smallest one in the whole plains and only two days before the maiden's appearance they had lost all their grox to the attack of a neighbouring tribe who killed nearly all of the men and kidnapped the women and children.

In this time of need the great Father of the sky had deemed it necessary to send her, the maiden had told and the shaman had trembled and fallen to his knees as a small kiss and a tiny pill had freed his spirit from his body, letting it fly above the clouds and see the mighty chariot, which He who sat on His throne had sent to lift the Farhula to the greatest heights of glory as His most faithful servants.

The remaining men of the tribe had fallen on their knees and joined their shaman in singing praise to Him and His maiden and bathed in the light He had sent His bounties to them:

Row after row of the oldest and mightiest weapons they had only seen from the richer northern tribes were spread in front of them: weapons that every warrior could use, no matter how weak he was and which killed their enemies with the red beams of light faster and more deadly than any bow they had.

They sung praise to Him and celebrated for His maiden's enjoyment through the night and at the next day before the sun had risen, she lead them to their enemies knowing where they had camped as if He Himself was guiding her.

And as such began the rise of the Farhula, who took back their women at this night and annexed the surviving families and land of their rivals.

This day has long past and ten years had swept over Medusa in which the maiden had never aged and hundreds of shamans had flocked to her to learn the word of Him who is sitting enthroned above all: how He was the father of mankind and how His warriors were more numerous than the stars themselves.

And the maiden promised: One day his servants will come down to the Farhula as soon as they have united the whole world from one horizon to another under His rule and let their mightiest warriors embark on His divine chariots to bring them to the battlefields were they will protect and guard His creation against the darkness of the daemonic.

Today they were going to finish the first step on the way to the fulfilment of the prophesy, to show themselves worthy of being His glorious warriors.

But the maiden had told them that none of them were going to join Him on His throne or at least not one of his warriors: only their enemies might find salvation by his forgiveness.

And so they stood posed around the final fortress, their caps pulled into their faces to endure the cold, while their banners were hanging limply from their poles.

But now their breath stopped as they saw the maiden walking to the first ranks of their riders and all of them took a tighter hold on their lances as they expected her to lead the charge as she had so many times before.

Not this time: the holy maiden was kneeling down on the dry, half frozen grass in front of them, her white robe untouched by dirt or earth as she raised her head upwards to the sky and while she was clearly only whispering, her words seemed to echo over the gathered ranks of the tribesmen as her soft voice said:

"The sky will welcome me, for therein dwells the Emperor and his saints. Today I will return to Him in the knowledge that His servants are mighty and victorious. I beseech you! Let none of them die today and instead let them watch how their enemies turn to dust."

As soon as she said her prayer an angelic choir seemed to sweep over the plains and all of the warriors jumped, some even fell, to the ground and kneeled down as they took this as a sign of Him. Then they heard a noise, like something was sucked away and a strange smell reached their noses, but as they lifted their heads again the maiden wasn't alone anymore!

Standing in front of her was a female with an even more ornate and divine robe, her clothing covered by His signs of allegiance, her hand resting on the head of the holy maiden who looked up with deep respect.

But if she was a holy maiden….they were at a loss of words on how to call the miraculously arrived woman in front of her: her hair blazing in the colour of the rising sun and one of her eyes blazing with holy fire.

**"He's our Father."**, the figure invoked ceremonially as she reached down and helped the maiden up to her feet and turned around with her.

**"He's our Guardian!"**, her voice echoed in the heart of every warrior as she took the first steps, none daring to move as she moved into the firing range of the enemy's fortress and black figures were looking at her equally dazzled from its walls.

But then every faithful heart missed a breath as the faithless found their bearing again and a cloud of black projectiles rose into the air, bearing down on the holy maiden and the messenger.

"He protects.", was the simple answer as she opened her arms and offered herself of the storm of arrows, hundreds of iron tips bearing down on her and in horror some of the warriors closed their eyes.

But there was no cry of pain, no yell of victory from the defenders: only the sound of arrow tips burying themselves into the frozen ground and when the men opened their eyes again they saw a miracle: The bearer of His words was standing in front of the maiden and both of them were shielded by a golden field around them, no arrow able to come close to them as they vanished from the air itself.

While the defenders cried out in shock and dismay, the warriors outside started to cry out in certainty of their victory only to be silenced as a defying roar rebounded over their heads.

**"AND NO ENEMY IS BEYOND HIS WRATH!"**

In the moment the last word rang over them the clouds parted with the sound of thunder, the formerly grey clouds turning into a fiery inferno as….something drilled through the air.

Not merely something: His wrath.

In the blink of an eye the enemy fortress was gone and the warriors had to shield their eyes as the bright mark of His destruction burned itself through closed eyelids, leaving an impression none of them will ever forget: the way the earth itself tore up and the fortress with its buildings, walls and little black dots which might have been people rose up into the air and were burned to ash, which reached from the ground up into the clouds.

In the days to come old warriors would sit on the campfires of their clans, their greying hair tugged safely below an equally old fur cap and when their grandchildren asked them why they were still wearing it they would tell them of the day when a young warrior was ready to give his life for Him and how he fell to his knees as the miracle happened which made the Farhula into the mightiest tribe from one direction of the sky to another.

He would tell the children how the wind of His wrath had swept away all the fur caps of the gathered warriors and no one had dared to move out to search for his as their eyes were locked onto the plain were the holy maiden and the messenger were standing in the company of a third servant of Him and how they disappeared to head back to the sky where He is dwelling.

Then he would take their hands and lead them out of their tent, walking towards the middle of their clans settlement were one of the flags was standing which fluttered above their heads as the messengers of His words were abstracted from their world.

The old warrior would look at the red cloth which shone like the hair of his most faithful Messenger herself and smile when the wind picked up and the children were gazing up to His symbol: The two headed bird of prey, it's left eye looking into the future and onto His subjects while the right eye was blindfolded and looking into the past at the heathens they left behind.

With regret he would look at his atrophied hands and remember the prophecy the maiden had given them, then he would only smile and ruffle his grandchildren's hair, hoping that maybe their generation will be seen as worthy of serving as his warriors and then he would tell them the most simple thing the maiden once told him and thousands of other warriors:

"He's the father and the guardian of mankind and one thing will always be true:

**The Emperor protects.** "

* * *

**Beyond the Emperor's reach lies only darkness and despair.**

* * *

This ends the STG report of the artificial construction regarding structures similar to Mass relays, further notices about the** incident** can be read in the notes under …

Looking up from her Omni-tool councillor Tevos sent her fellow councillors a credulous look, before looking down at the documents and footages before her again, skimming through the headlines of the joined Turian and Salarian project before closing them with a weary sigh.

An awkward silence descended over the meeting chamber of the three most influential beings in the known galaxy, sitting in the, most likely, most secure and comfy room in the whole citadel.

"Just what…did you think you were doing?",

The Asari matriarch finally asks with a small glare directed at her colleagues who shifted uneasily in their seats, knowing full well that their little project was now busted and known to the Asari who normally prided themselves at being the most progressive race in the mastery of Element Zero, who were now, no doubt in this case, interested in the possibility of an own analogue to the mass relay network…just the idea which the other two big races seemed to have tried building behind their blue backs.

"It was the idea to utili-" Valern started to explain in rapidly as his Turian counterpart cut him off: "It was an investment of the Turian Hierarchy within the scope of our peace keeping missions, our own relay network could be a deciding edge against any-"

Sparatus didn't get much further himself as a slowly enraged Tevos hit her fist on the table, for once discarding her diplomatic persona as she glared at both of her colleagues:

"You two….this…this….investment!", she spit the word like a curse as she pointed at the reports "destroyed a whole planet just as you first tried to-"

"It was only a dead moon-" The Salarian tried to interject helpfully only to be silenced by a cold glare as cold as meteoroid ice from Tevos as she stared him down and repeated in a tone bare of any emotion "…only a dead moon?"

Using this moment to try and calm her down Sparatus quickly tried to shift her attention away "No one was killed or wounded one way or another, all 215 scientists and other personnel were able to evacuate the station before our prototype relay collapsed, if you might read the additions to the official report you might see that there were even 218 lives rescued from the station, you can't say anyone came to harm."

Listening to the Turian Councillor Tevos slumped into her chair closing her eyes and trying to fight against the tiredness that seemed to have grabbed her, before responding more controlled: "You two…it was already bad enough that the Geth were able to attack the Citadel itself with a new super dreadnought and that we three are only still alive thanks to Shepard and her call for help, which made a System Alliance fleet appear just in time. Now we might even need to give the humans their own seat as…wait" Stopping midway in her sentence Tevos looked back at Sparatus in mild puzzlement

"218 of 215 left the station before its destruction?"

"Yes! Very interesting, we were able to pull three individuals through the relay into the station. They appear to be human, and talked in a strange dialect, they were obviously not very fazed by their means of transport, they are-" "Humans with the attitude of the Hanar", Sparatus finished his excited colleague's statement with his mandibles twitching irritated, "They are just even more primitive than the system alliance, all three of them seem to carry swords of all things" Shaking his hand dismissingly he turned back to the reports of the damages wrought by the battle of the citadel,

"I'm sure we have other worries, the council shouldn't bother itself with some unsuccessful project, we promise..". at these words he tried to make eye contact with Tevos and gave her a small nod "…that the Hierarchy and the Salarian Union will stop working on this and any related projects while….just while the public still needs to calm down, is that acceptable Tevos?", he asked accompanied by the rather reluctant nods of Valern who showed the obvious reluctance of the Salarian to postpone such a fascinating idea,

Her eyes wandering back towards the reports describing the rebuilding progress in the wards who took the most damage against Saren and his Geth, she nodded sharply at the offer

"That's…reasonable, maybe when the time is right a few Asari scientists could help us accomplish our own network even faster, but still…what's with these three humans the prototype brought into the station?"

Scoffing Sparatus shook his exoskeleton clad head, with an aura of assured superiority in his next words:

"Just primitives, trying to spread their religion from what we have found out, following their deity and wanting to make other people believe in him too….as you can see, not much different from the Hanar, most likely they are just humans from some backwater colony in the Terminus with a delusion of grandeur."

Nodding to herself more than to the others, Tevos gave both of them a small smile before nodding towards her door, sighing as they finally left and she had her room just to herself.

Curiously she reached down and opened a small video of one of these "Hanar like" humans to look for herself, a small smile tugging on her lips as the video showed the most likely leader of the three person group, all three seeming to be normal human women…if you didn't mind their particular clothing style. A small giggle only barely escaped from Tevos' lips as she continued watching a small clip of the group's leader, not possibly any older than twenty or a bit more, holding her hand firmly around the hilt of a great bulky sword of all things before opening her mouth and talking in a language totally unknown to Tevos or her Omni tool:

**"I'm Flavia Sophana, Missionary of the Missionarus Galaxia. Greetings in the name of the God Emperor of Mankind."**

After saying this obvious introduction or greeting the women smiled with genuine warmth, as far as Tevos could guess, which was quite something with her status and age as matriarch, before she bowed down for a moment, interlocking her hands and forming some sort of sign with her open hands and thumbs, shaking her head slightly before recalling Sparatus's words "Humans with the attitude of Hanar", Tevos smiled to herself as she put this report away and closed her eyes to finally get some rest: "they are only preachers, let them go around and talk to people…what could be the worst that happens?"

* * *

The mass relay to the citadel flared up with life and a stealth ship of the STG moved uncontested towards the centre of the galaxy, carrying with it guests who some might want to forget just to hide their failure, while the council itself has deemed them important enough to give a small and private hearing, just to get them of the table and deal with the backslash of the battle which not only showed how vulnerable the citadel was to an invasion attempt, but also the shifting of powers as humanity's new councillor Anderson was needed to be integrated into the existing council.

Leaning against the wall of their shared cabin Flavia Sophana, Member of the Missionarus Galaxia, looked at one of the Xeno holograms, which were mounted at the walls and showing the space station….citadel. Shaking her head in minor amusement, not only at the misplaced pride the bird and frog like Xeno seemed to have at every mention of this station, at least as far as sister Marina could translate so far…and if sister Marina was translating it for her, she could at least be sure to get the best possible translation.

Shaking her head slightly below the heavy white hood which was part of her robes, the missionary leaned back into the nearly decadently cushioned seats of the cabin and closed her eyes wearily, as she just now doubted her idea to appease the Xenos for now…

**"Anything new regarding the low gothic dialect they are using to talk to us, Sister Marina?"**

The missionary asked with still closed eyes, as she let her thoughts wander back to the last mission they accomplished before the…incident that stranded them with these strangely…peaceful? Slightly she shook her head, Curious….yes, that was better fitting, curious Xenos, especially the amphibian like, frail looking ones.

**"The dialect….**English**... as they call it, seems to be related to at least 34 other low gothic dialects, either through their grammatical structure or certain word and syllable combinations, so far I'm presuming it to be a human language Missionary.",**

The reply of the black haired Adeptus Sororitas snapped Flavia out of her musing, as her eyes focused on the source of the voice, nodding ever so slightly towards the red and white robed Sister, who had covered her part of the cabin with numerous scrolls and ink, as well as a few data pads for cross referencing the dialect. Looking back at the hologram, she was once again slightly amazed…and appalled at the clearness of the picture, that the Xenos can have such a superior technology so openly displayed and from what she has seen so widely used in the everyday life made her… uneasy, but then something came into the view and she had to keep back a smile as her eyes trailed over it, her heart filling with faith at the view.

**"Sister Marina, you should take a look at this, the Emperor might have given us a sign."**

Forming the sign of the Aquilla with her interlocked thumbs the Missionary sent a thankful prayer to the Master of Mankind as their transport passed a large field of debris. It wasn't that large, barely a skirmish or border incident in Imperial standards but what made her hope flare up once again where the letters not only on the debris but also on the still intact vessels, moving through the field, the closest reading "SSV Cairo" in clear gothic letters on its hull.

Only at her second glance did she scowl slightly, flimsy, no other word came to her mind as quickly as she looked at the small size of all the, hopefully, human vessels, most of them not even coming close to the size of a Cobra Class Destroyer of the Imperial Navy, and not one of them surpassing Frigate size. As far as she could see none of them had the unmistakable silhouette of an Imperial warship, with growing unrest she could even make out that a lot of ships she mistook for being most likely human as well were bearing other symbols and letters, identifying them as Xeno crafts with an eerie similarity to the human vessels.

Drumming her fingertips over the polished leather of her prayer book the missionary gave the Sister a small smile:

**"Service for the Emperor never seems to end…if there are humans…they might be part of these Xeno empires at worst and at best they are using the same Xeno tech as them, risking the damnation of their souls to it."**

After seeing Sister Marina give her a small nod Flavia turned back to the screen concentrating her attention on the Xenos seat of government, the station in the shape of a Pentagram and five arms, the whole construction turning around an central axis…most likely to gain artificial gravity. In a way it pleased the missionary greatly that even this resourceful Xenos, similar to them only seemed the rumoured Tau at the fringe of the Imperium, wasting technological luxuries on everyday things were still not able to build something coming even close to the holy glory of the Imperial ship yards and the great space stations she had visited on her travels on whatever ship she was assigned to accompany on its travels to the unexplored regions.

Wistfully she looked over to Sister Marina and then back towards the door of the cabin, next to which the oldest member of the trio was leaning against the wall, her lips not stopping a moment as she recited one litany of protection after another, her voice being as calm and silent as the faint noises of the ships engines. The former Adeptus of an Order Militant was slowly coming close to the end of the second century of her service to the God-Emperor and was given to the missionary to assist her in the spreading of the Imperial Cult.

Sister Marie, formerly of the Order of Our Martyred Lady, was chosen for this position in the Ecclesiarchy's efforts to spread His light thanks to her unwavering piety and her experience, having battled the forces of Chaos at multiple engagements, coming close to Heresy and the Archenemy every time without faltering, her faith to the Emperor only growing at each occasion. Today her recitation wasn't the usual daily prayer, but a shield against the disgust she felt from using the vile xeno tech projection on her arm to gain access to the database they called Extranet, while her other hand was stuck in a smelly black glove to use the hologram interface as pictures, one more revolting than the last seemed to play out before her, showing her teeming cities full of different xeno species mingling with one another, disgusting beings resembling mutants of human women with tentacles instead of hair and blue skin sauntered over the streets off pictures smiling an Emperor damned human smile at her as her hands clenched into fists and she quickly changed the picture with a swift movement of her hand, showing a more familiar view: hundreds of the bird like Xenos marching in perfect cadence with their weapons presented and row after row of tanks following the precisely marching infantry. To a degree it was strangely soothing after the blue ones to see that Xenos still remained Xenos, rivals to humanities divine right to rule the stars. Flipping further trough what seemed to be titled "First contact package", a small amused snort escaped the ex-Seraphim and from the corner of her eye she could see the missionary sending her an equally amused look as she read the title, as every servant of the God-Emperor knows there is only one package for a first contact, mostly containing an abundance of His holy ordinance dropped on whatever xeno species dared to raise its miserable head from their backwater planet.

But then all three Imperials gasped as the pictures changed once again, showing a brightly glowing sun illuminating a single solar system, the shadow of a human couple in the background. Not any, but The solar system, as in the cradle of humanity, with the red dusty surface of Mars home to the Mechanicus Cult, the outmost Pluto with its shipyards and…their breath stopped collectively once again as they stared at a pristine garden world, the view dominated by the blue colour of oceans and the green of forests, with city lights only taking parts…and not all of the surface for themselves.

Even with being the eldest Sister Marie could hardly hide her bewilderment at the view, a quick glance would have showed everyone that Sister Marina was hardly taking it better both of them staring at the picture for what could amount a small eternity from their perspective, before they turned towards the Missionary again who had taken it in stride and smiled slightly at their looks searching for guidance, raises her hands softly she tried to calm them down:

**"You shouldn't be worrying about this system too much Sisters, it could just be a coincidence a system looking this awfully familiar to the Holy Sol system and…",**

Waiting for a moment as the names of each celestial body in the system was getting labelled in low gothic on the screen, not even waiting for Sister Marina's translation of each name into the fitting High Gothic names, Flavia shook her head and stared both of the Sisters down, her voice bearing a tone of finality:

**"Heresy grows from idleness, we were sent out into the galaxy with the prospect of never returning to the Imperium in our lifetime, travelling from one lost human civilization to another, no matter if they were even barely feudal or still stuck feral, it's our sacred duty to spread the Emperors word, saving as many human souls as possible from Damnation and expanding the Imperium without the great waste of defenders subjugating them might cost. When we left Tanivaz II, we left through the teleporter, giving those spear wielding tribesman a glimpse at the might of the Imperium, we were ready to never return to the world and let another Missionary finish spreading the faith in a hundred or even two hundred years, what has changed from us falling through the warp into these xenos hands? It shouldn't matter to us if this system-"**

She paused and gestured at the hologram which seemed to hover in the middle of the room, captivating all attention before the missionary shook her head and reached down turning it off and as the orange lights of the Omni-tool died down, leaving both Sisters concentrating on the Missionaries face, which shone in a deep red as in place of her left eye a glowing red light seemed to intensify like a burning torch, her whole appearance shifted into the fiery orator she could be before the faithful in a cathedral or the heathens which she proselytized under the clear sky of any world His will sent her too.

**"…if this system and its planets are just named in honour of the old home world the humans in this part of the Galaxy could have forgotten long since the Age of Strife, or if this system truly is Holy Terra? In which case we are lost not in space but in time, as there seems to be no indication of the Imperial Palace and the Oceans and Trees were lost on Terra long ago in the Dark Ages anyway. But why should this matter to us? It doesn't matter if we are lost in time or in space, our purpose is clear, our duty is sacred, we are to spread the five Truths of the Imperial Creed, they are the only chance for humanities continued survival and no matter where we are right now the humans will hear and believe, or we will make them!"**

Taking a deep breath she looked heavily at each Sister who only nodded and fell to their knees praying softly to the Emperor, asking for his guiding hand to let them spread His light even in this forsaken sector:

**"For the Emperor has once walked among men, but He is, and always has been, a god.**

**The Emperor is the only true god, regardless of what past faiths any human may have worshipped.**

**To purge the heretic, beware the psyker and mutant, and abhor the alien."**

As the Missionary's voice continued to grow loader, slowly reaching the peak of the small sudden preachment, Sister Marie's hand strayed to her hips, gripping the familiar handle of her pistol as she remembered the glorious Purges she was once a part of, before joining Sister Marina in silent devotion, as the cores of the Imperial Faith seemed to Echo in the closed cabin like thunder.

**"Every human being has a place within the Emperor's divine order.**

**And every human's duty is to unquestionably obey the authority of the Imperial government and one's superiors.**

**We do not have to fear and shrink away from our holy duty:**

**Men united in the purpose of the Emperor are blessed in his sight and shall live forever in his memory."**


	2. The Tools of our Salvation

**Chapter 3**

* * *

C-Sec officer Lenostia D'roneus sprinted through the presidium as she cursed the lack of personnel C-Sec was currently facing, evading a Volus who was idling on a green area between her and the lift only barely her feet carried her quickly down the stairs and through the passers-by, who were following their usual business, only the lesser density of the traffic around her was indicating any consequences from the battle for the citadel.

"Officer D'roneus, where are you going? The VIPs have already arrived and are boarding their-"

Lenostia ignored the rest of her Turian colleague's impatient ranting as she jumped over a railing and hit green grass under her feet one floor below gracefully, before resuming her run through the Presidium, finally spotting a skycar with a small group of Turians from the Special response team. Their military armament, in bygone days a view as rare as an Asari maiden doing something productive on the citadel, was not that unusual if you look at the witch hunt for Geth infiltrators which was kicked loose since the battle.

Fighting down a smile Officer D'roneus could see just how much trouble the armament was now giving them as the inbuilt safeties of the X3M skycar made its doors close whenever one of the Turians tried to enter and a bright red warning flashed up followed by the threat that an automatic message was sent to warn C-Sec.

Taking a small calming breath she walked towards the car calmly trying to suppress any sign of amusement as she saw the mandibles of the Turian Officer, a new one just like her, used to fill in the holes still left in C-Sec before the humans as the newest council race would fill in the rest of the posts in the Divisions.

Hearing her steps the Turian turned around and gave her a cold glare as if she was the cause for all misery which has befallen him…ever.

"It seems you have deemed to finally grace us with your presence officer Lenostia. As we are experiencing….technical troubles thanks to an oversight in preparation for this visit our guests have asked for a guide to show one of them around the citadel."

His voice was not only full of sarcasm pointed at her but with resentment and venom aimed at the car, the general situation and to a degree with pointed glares at the three mysterious visitors. Following his gaze Lenostia took the first chance to look at the three humans, whose relaxed posture was quite the contrast to the rigidity of the Turians around them.

Standing in the middle was what must be a human female; the Asari could only conclude this from the faint body contours she could make out underneath the long robe dyed in a light bone colour of white. As she tried to take in the rest of the woman, Lenostia found herself unable to tear her eyes off the person again, her eyes wandering upwards and taking in each sight with the same inevitability with which others would stare at a car crash.

It started relatively normal; around the woman's waist was a heavy leather belt, not one of the stylish thin and elegant sort but a broad and hard one, gilded with golden motifs all along its length, the heavy metal buckle ornamented with a two headed bird of prey in massive gold as farfetched as that seemed, one of its eyes seemingly scratched out.

Hanging on the left hip was a thick honest to the goddess paper book, its cover also made from leather again and bearing the same bird icon again, while the handle of a sword of all things was peaking out from behind the other hip, making the officer feel like she was in a bad holo movie. The impression got only worse as she saw the massive trinket acting as some sort of oversized necklace, with the same two headed bird of prey again made of…no…most likely only gilded, she thought, not believing that someone might run around with a massive gold trinket as big as her two hands openly and with….is that a jewel instead of an eye?

The astonishment at so much gold in one place didn't seem to stop as Lenostia saw a cloth, some sort of stole slung around the woman's neck with two stylised roman Is on each end, each pendant of the stole the size of her palm and with the embedded motif of a human skull.

Blanching slightly at the morbid and garish decoration of the otherwise fairly plain white robe, she found herself finally staring into the hooded face of the woman, her features hidden in the shadows and only a smouldering red light peering out of the obscured darkness where her left eye should have been.

Puzzled the Asari officer had to watch the spooky figure gaze at her from unseen eyes, the red light slowly starting to unnerve her as a small chuckle flew from the human's lips as she turned towards her companion on the left.

"If these xenos get filled with fear only by peering at His holy servants then it might seem like we won't need that long to enforce humanities dominance and send them back into dust."

Surprised Lenostia had heard…nothing in fact, no handy translation fed through her translator, not even a familiar word or two she knew from the other humans in C-Sec, just a strange, hard to describe language with some sounds strangely familiar while others seemed totally foreign to any known language she knows of, as she wondered if her translator might be broken her eyes slipped towards the black haired woman who was spoken to.

Immediately the Asari's eyes widened and she froze in sheer terror as she peered into dark unflinching eyes in a face of sharp features, framed by shoulder length black hair, as the floor under her feet seemed to disappear and she found herself back in the classroom on Thessia wriggling under the merciless glare of her history teacher having to compare the small wars of the Asari to human and turian histories…

While the Turians seemed to ignore her and the group of robed strangers, Lenostia found a petite hand touching her shoulder and she finally tore herself from remembering this devil in Asari guise to turn towards the owner of these hands only to blush softly as she found herself face to face with one of the most beautiful humans she had ever seen.

A young and innocent woman looked at her with an innocent smile, white hair framing her face in a serene manner, only a black tattoo under her right eye blemishing spotless fair skin, making the officer's heart beat faster for a moment before she stumbles backwards her old grace lost for a moment, as the woman…girl smiled at her.

"You…guide …for me? Me Marie"

The angelic appearance in front of her asked in stumbling insecure English, her hands locked together nervously over her black robe with white accents, being far more elegant and close….Lenostia blinked, it was from an Asari shop, only spotting the silver bird of prey necklace around the girl's neck made the Asari connect her with the two more strange humans she just looked at, nodding slightly she tried to reply slowly:

"Yes, I'm C-Sec officer Lenostia D'roneus, from the Enforcement Division."

Smiling Sister Marie nodded towards the C-Sec officer and pointed towards the big lake in the presidium, and then gestured around.

"There first?...other later?"

Officer D'roneus could only nod before watching the young woman stride towards the lake leaving her behind dumbly for a moment before snapping out of her daze, induced through too many clashing impressions burying her at once and running after her charge.

* * *

Sister Marina had watched the exchanged with barely concealed disgust her hand still clenching around the metal of her staff as she watched the Alien follow Marie in a mockery of human movement and grace.

"The God-Emperor must be with Sister Marie….I can't imagine myself acting through something so…so….repulsive! As touching a xeno in a "friendly" way….these blue witches…they are no better than the hideous genestealers, trying to infiltrate mankind through their reproduction and offspring, they seem to subjugate all species through this!"

Taking a moment to look at their escort and noting them only giving Sister Marina small glances at her burst, she reached out and touched the Adeptus Sororitas lightly on the shoulder

"Sister Marie's devotion is admirable, you should know that she has remained for more than twenty years on Tanivaz II, all the local tribal chieftains who threw themselves down before our shuttle were blessed, to a large part raised and even married off by the machinations of this one Sister, you should keep in mind to never underestimate the Orders Sabine in your work Sister Marina, their work is the foundation on which the Missionarus Galaxia treads. Let the xenos think of her as the most innocent and harmless of us, none of the Emperor's enemies survives underestimating a Seraphim lightly. But still…I find myself quite curious as of why the xeno was staring at you with the same look others usually reserve for the drill Abbots after having the schola progenium for years."

"We care not what the alien thinks, that we simply hate suffices."

"Zeal is no excuse, only work earns salvation. You should better remember I am a missionary of the God-Emperor, my work is clear, the path in front of us and my authority over you is unquestionable."

Flavia replied with steel in her voice as she turned her head lightly to stare at the Sister, until she bowed her head slightly in submission and grew silent.

Frowning slightly under her hood the missionary turned back towards the xenos who seemed to have finally gotten their soulless machine ready for further transport again.

Doubt often leads to heresy, but from a Sister Dialogous? That could lead to trouble, she hasn't seen as much of the missionary's work as of yet, not comparable to Flavia herself or even Sister Marie who was part of the Orders Sabine since more than sixty years.

Nearly absently following the xenos gestures and Sister Marina's translations, Missionary Sophana allowed herself to close her eye wearily for a moment, letting a small sigh escape her as she contemplated the further course of action, she stared out of the car's window as it slowly rose from the ground before starting to move towards the meeting point with one of the xeno Councillors who seemed to reign above this Sector.

* * *

"So what's that?"

Following Marie's pointed finger Lenostia tensed slightly in embarrassment as she saw the Volus she nearly ran over before, sitting on the grass in his heavy environment suit.

Having quickly noticed that her charge had a better grip at understanding English than speaking it she launched into a short explanation.

"He," stressing the word slightly, "is a Volus; they are from the planet Irune, which is supporting an ammonia based ecology. Because of this and the higher gravity on their home world, they need to wear these suits all time in environments more suited for us."

"So…they….stink?...and are small and round?"

Came the soft reply with a curious look at said ammonia balloon, making the officer continue with a smile while Sister Marie scoffed slightly at how easy the xeno was to manipulate.

"Of course not!" the asari replied with a small smile, truly enjoying the presence of the bright girl, her two elder companions seemed for more brooding and dark,

"The Volus are the citadel's foremost financial experts in citadel space, while they are a client race of the Turians, they are widely respected for creating the galactic currency and for their business sense, making them vital for the growth of the economy in the citadel."

"Client Race?" Sister Marie probed the xeno, wondering herself why a race which seemed to hold so much esteem was a Client race…of course it could be because the Turians, from what she had seen before were far more militarized, but couldn't they just buy mercenaries?

"Ohh yes, the Vol Protectorate is a Client of the Turian Hierarchy, as the Volus aren't really cut out for combat or even a light bar fight, so they rely on the Turian military to defend them in ground based operations, they do have a military but tend to focus more on their fleet assets."

Nodding to herself Sister Marie made a small note in her mind: 'volus and turians are close to one another and rely on each other's help, breaking one of them would cripple the other's capabilities and even the whole of the vile xeno conglomerate and the cleansing of the planet Irune would doom the ammonia xenos as a whole, who are reliant on the planets special ecology.'

Smiling to herself at the thoughtful expression the young VIP had, Lenostia continued the tour pointing out some restaurants and meeting points for the rich and influential who visited the Presidium, noting with mirth the wide eyes the easily impressed woman seemed to have for everything around her, but of course it was typical for there is nothing more spacious and grand than the citadel itself.

'It's a big toy…and these xenos are so proud of it and why, because they found it first? The foolishness of mankind's enemies knows no bounds, but their hubris will work to our benefit in the end, no one can oppose the Emperor's will.'

Sister Marie's further musings were interrupted as the blue xeno witch turned back to her with the warp damned mockery of a human smile on her lips.

"I hope you are enjoying the tour, the citadel is the most impressive jewel the council space has to offer, millions of sentient beings are living together peacefully in its wards, and with it being in the centre of the mass relay network it is also a trade hub for all races."

"It's one of the…bigger stations…I seen."

Nearly falling over her own feet officer D'roneus turned towards her charge incredulously, blinking in surprise, she must have misheard or?

There is no station even close to the citadel's size, or even bigger as the white haired woman was implying now, that just couldn't be….

"I see….where they longer than 50 km?"

Lenostia asked carefully, not wanting to believe a word, it just couldn't be that a human…

"Of course."

…were they even human? The officer asked herself as she suddenly got nervous, her mind replaying the observation of the white robed central figure, while the symbolism seemed human; there was without a doubt no Alliance human she had ever seen, wearing something remotely close to those robes and ornaments, which seemed more suited for a show about the dark ages or whatever the humans called their more savage phase in history.

What if they are a new race?

Licking her lips nervously she peered to her side, watching the white haired woman for a moment, if you remember how excited most of the asari were when the humans and these three were indeed form a new species….

"Say Marie….where are you from?"

The muscles in the Sister's body tensed as she looked to her side and found the xeno examining her with a look of hunger, reminding her of the wild and savage kroot the tau used as ground forces and jungle fighters.

Turning slightly to keep the xeno in her view and with an escape rout over the railing behind her, she let her hand glide into her robe, touching the soothing and trustful handle of her prized inferno gun. Forcing herself to smile cheerfully at the xeno she replied.

"Ophelia VII, second in sanctity only to Holy Terra itself, a whole world covered in shrines and cathedrals' sanctified… "

* * *

"…in the name of the God-Emperor. May He look down at this meeting from the Golden Throne and bless it with the fulfilment of our wishes."

She was a matriarch, her age measured in the centuries, she remembered the times when the Quarians still had an embassy on the citadel and she could pride herself to being one of the last beings to have ever seen one without the omnipresent suits they were forced to wear nowadays. Tevos was chosen by the Asari republics to represent them as councillor for her wisdom, her diplomatic nature and her ability to sooth even the worst conflicts which were brewed up at all times, by the goddess, she could even remember her grandmother telling her of her work in the krogan rebellions and how cruel and crushing the krogan expansion appeared to them at that time, how the Turians faced terrible loses and lost three worlds to asteroid bombardment. But all carefully chosen words she had prepared to excuse herself for the actions of her two colleagues seemed to have died on her lips as her guest, the missionary, pulled her hood back and she found herself staring into a balefully red glowing bionic eye, its golden metal look clashing terribly with the woman's pale skin around it.

She knew her species was often seen as placing too much worth on the aesthetical pleasing in all aspects of their life, but she also knew that humans where no different, trying to make prosthesis look as life like as possible, in particular for visible parts of their body, but this? The prosthesis with delusions of grandeur looked like a clash of concept, while it looked crude and at the same time indestructible, covering most of the left eye socket and parts disappearing under the missionary's braided long red hair, it was at the same time a piece of art, skilfully crafted miniatures seemingly either showing humans with weapons or books, interlaid with the ever repeating skull motif their visitors seemed to prefer for everything. It was the openly displayed machinery crafted to a biological being that threw her off and she only snapped back to attention as the missionary bowed down and interlocked her hands, forming a symbol close to the bird of prey which adorned her chest in gold.

"It's my pleasure to welcome you Missionary Sophana, I'm councillor Tevos of the Asari republics. I want to express my sincerest apologizes for the manner in which you arrived in council space, we want to assure you that we don't usually establish first contact by kidnapping members of a new species, we want to…"

"New species? I thought you were already familiar with humanity, the material you have given us had information about the civilization you call "Systems Alliance"."

Surprised Tevos gave her two guests a puzzled look, glancing at the black-haired woman behind the missionary who was acting as translator for both of them, holding a staff with… microphones?, at its top.

"We can assure you we have taken some small tests…" mostly with the hairs all three woman have left in the station and on the ship on their way here, "While you of course are very similar to the humans from earth, both in your appearance and genetics the differences…"

"…are petty." The Missionary stated with finality in her tone of voice, which she could even understand without translation.

"The differences you might have noted are from genetic drift, it is not unheard of for isolated human civilizations evolving along different lines when they lose contact to the rest of humanity and the Imperium for a few thousand years."

Tevos couldn't help but to feel shocked at the words, not only because the missionary just interrupted her, a councillor who decides over the fate of the galaxy daily, but because the missionary just wanted to make her believe that there were more humans in the galaxy? Forming civilizations, as in plural, while the missionary and her entourage hailed from an Imperium which consisted of the majority of human civilizations and which regarded a few thousand years as a negligible time span. This was just far too farfetched but at the same time not even the best experts of the STG were able to identify all the metals used in the groups jewellery and weapons, at least if you would count three swords as armament in the age of mass driven guns, while both of their pistols showed no trace of element zero just like the rest of their equipment. So in a usual pattern of evading responsibility for a decision Sparatus had declared them sword wielding savages and Valern had declared the disinterest of the Salarian Union as they seemed to know no element zero technology. Maybe they are using subspace flight then? Tevos nodded slightly at the idea, which surely showed why they could lose contact for thousands of years, if something happened that closed the usual travelling routes…

"Just how…large is the Imperium?"

"The last count in the beginning of M41 had over one million planets listed which showed fealty to the God-Emperor, but the number could go up and down at any moment, as planets are lost and recolonized at any moment."

More than a million worlds?! The councillor's mind boggled at the number imagining such a vast empire without element Zero and mass relays…she could nearly feel pity for the inhabitants, having to live without nearly instant communication and Extranet.

At least if that was true…they could just be embellishing their numbers, if you think about it, that was most likely, they seemed to love their religious expressions in all circumstances, with their emperor being seen as a divine being, then they might also see the million as an expression or just as a lucky number. Nodding to herself she felt a bit of pity with her visitors, maybe that was the reason why they thought they were the same species as the humans? Aching for companionship? Giving her counterpart a small smile she didn't mind the expressionless face of the missionary anymore, of course she must be trying to hide her anguish, being stranded so far from home in the middle of unknown species, she should help those three as good as she can, that would be the least for what her colleagues and their project have done to these three innocent clerics.

The innocent and impatient cleric meanwhile was watching the xeno's face with rising resentment, just why couldn't the xeno speak up again, she needed to get off this station and from what Sister Marie had found out there were just the right soil to spread the Imperial Cult through the heathens of this sector.

"Your apologies are unneeded councillor, if the road would be easy our destination would be worthless as the Saint Sabbath herself said. I just wish to be allowed to leave this station with my entourage and continue my mission to spread His words."

"Of course Missionary Sophana, I can understand your wish and as token of our apology the council would like to help you in your mission at least…"

Tevos couldn't continue much further as the missionary who could have been a statue till now broke into a loud and honest laughter after her translator had conveyed the asari's words.

Taken back for a moment the councillor could only make out small words with no sense to her something about "xeno" , "purge" and "their own", but choose to laugh herself a bit to ease the mood before continuing with a smile.

"But of course we would need to know a bit more about your religion…a basic overview of its teachings and if any threat to the current galactic order would be coming out from you?"

Taking the small smile on the missionary's lips as a good sign Tevos leaned back, suddenly very curious about this new species, after all there were only three of them and the little figurines on their ornaments had shown at least two different genders and with no idea how long their lifespans were this could be an unique chance for her and everyone else.

Standing up from her seat Flavia gave the xeno a smile, how could one doubt that the Emperor was holding his protective hands over them right now? What other explanation could there be for xenos wanting to spread his words and spread the seeds of their own destruction?

They were either trusting so easily like the blue witches or as condescending and filled with pride as their more animal-like looking wardens and if playing harmless for some years was needed to spread the faith and then ground them into dust? Then it is as it always was the task of His sacred Missionarus Galaxia to show subtlety were others would use force and lose precious human life on both sides which would be far better used against the alien and the heretic.

"Councillor, you must understand that the vastness of the Imperium is making it hard to keep one unified church with one set of rules and teachings, because of this the Ecclesiarchy, the state church, has chosen five tenets which have to be followed closely by all cults of the Emperor. The interpretation can…vary and is for the most part heavily influenced by the culture and former religions of a planet, giving us a great diversity in religious matters."

Seeing the xeno's eyes light up at the word of diversity, Flavia knew exactly how to play the xeno from now on, smiling as she took her prayer book from her hip, opening the page with the five tenets of the Imperial Creed slowly, and watching how the xeno seemed to grow more excited.

"The Ecclesiarchy is promoting the followed beliefs:

That the God-Emperor of Mankind once walked among men in their form and that He is and always has been the one, true God of humanity.

2\. That the God-Emperor of Mankind is the one true God of Makind, regardless of

the previous beliefs held by any man or woman.

3\. It is the duty of the faithful to … show the heretics the errors of their way, be

careful in their interactions with psykers and mutants, and mind the alien.

4\. Every human being has a place within the God-Emperor's divine order.

5\. It is the duty of the faithful to unquestionably obey the authority of the

…government and their superiors, who speak in the Emperor's name.

Would that answer that basic of your question councillor?"

Praying softly in her mind to absolve herself from the sin of changing the Imperial Creed, even if only to appease a xeno…a xeno of all things, even if it was a ruse she would sit together with Sister Marie later, only prayers cleanse a mind.

"Thank you Missionary, but still, I would like to ask what is meant by the interactions with mutants? Biotics are the only mutants our society is always faced with, so we won't allow…"

"Your worries are misplaced, that part came from experience, there were multiple worlds in our history which did use mutants as slave labour, giving them nearly no right, which finally lead to slave rebellions which sometimes cast whole sectors of space into anarchy, blood and fire, if this was the only point which was a problem for you?"

Seeing the xeno noding slightly Flavia decided to strike while the iron was still hot and she knew the Emperor was guiding her through this new task.

"My order is specialized on civilizing new worlds councillor, it's our task to make the natives ready for becoming part of the Imperium without complications if possible, one example is the showing of Imperial technology…", even if it was mostly to make them revere the Imperial technology and its bearers "….while we also try to replace the more…barbarous rituals some worlds may have developed after losing nearly all their technological progress and becoming what we call a feral world, this might include making them stop sacrificing humans or participating in cannibalism by replacing the human flesh through a rare animal and…"

Surprised missionary Sophana stopped as she noticed the councillor's face having lost colour in her purple face and was trembling slightly maybe that was already too much?

Shrugging she gazed down at the councillor slightly lowering the intensity of her red bionic eye a bit, giving it the impression of smouldering fire.

"As you can see my line of work is used to the more ugly sides of humanity, with your permission we would like to open a mission in or next to the Terminus system, we will take care of the ill and the orphans as He might have wanted it. But if you offer us your help we would welcome a moderate income to fund our mission as well as medical equipment to care for those who can't afford it themselves."

Seeing the still silent xeno nod a little Flavia allowed herself a small smile followed by forming the sign of the Aquila and as much as it pained her: a respectful bow to the councillor before turning around and heading for the door.

"Just….wait!" hearing the xeno call out she turned slightly, looking back at the blue witch again, raising her eyebrows.

"Of course that's a noble idea…but the terminus system is infested with pirates and slavers it's not safe to…"

"Councillor…some place their trust in warships, and some in weapons of destruction. But we remember the divine Emperor. They are brought down and fallen; but we are risen and victorious. We have our faith councillor and the Emperor protects those faithful."

With a curt nod, the most she would allow these xeno to have right now, Missionary Sophana turned around and strode out of the meeting room, Sister Marina following her dutifully her staff, as if by accident hitting the hallow wall, behind of which, one of the six Spectres, who were there to defend the Councillor, was hiding.

* * *

"Very religious, some would say fanatically but so far they haven't shown any greater hostility towards anyone else till now…to the contrary, unlike our own religions they seem to have evolved and changed since they have reached space, even including mutants and aliens in their holy scriptures with special care."

Tevos had finally relaxed again, what the missionary had described seemed….impossible, how could a civilization degenerate back to cannibalism and sacrificing their own?

All in all they had made a rather positive impression on her if only the other…

"She seemed closed up, not much mime and gestures to analyze, following pattern of all observation till now, only the presumably youngest of them seems to openly show much joy or sorrow. I am unsure if this is thanks to age or experiences in life."

"Valern, you have to be considerate! " , Tevos chided her Salarian colleague slightly, "Thanks to your experiment they are now with us, all alone and without any idea were their home might be, they are surely only hiding behind their duty to keep working."

Snorting slightly Sparatus nodded at these words;

"But you shouldn't forget that some really take honour in their duty and from what the missionary has told it's "sacred", their whole world seems to be religiously dressed up. You shouldn't discount the possibility they might be always like this and if these were only clerics….I would love to see how their military might be working, even if they must be relatively primitive without mass effect weapons."

"Are you Turians always interested in this one part of a culture? Don't you see the possibilities we could be able to take a glimpse at a culture… no, cultures! which have evolved without Element Zero and might have existed for thousands of years."

"But you want to allow them to leave? That is a highly inefficient course of action, dangerous, and we could lose our sources in the Terminus system like this."

Valern quickly interjected, earning a nod from Sparatus, who reached out with his talons and touches the data pad with the recorded conversation.

"Valern is right here Tevos, while I don't really have interest in them, don't you think it's risky to allow them to leave like this, even giving them funds from the council? You know how annoying the Hanar can be."

"While both of those might be true I think this is the best possible solution for now, don't you think they will be more forthcoming with information after having settled down a bit? I'm sure if we just give them some time to warm up to us we will have a working dialogue with them and they will learn to trust us. At the same time we can steer them to one of the safer planets when we control their funds, saying that the construction crews won't go into dangerous areas and don't you think helping orphans and the ill would also give a good image to us? I think we can safely presume they will choose a human colony just to be close to people similar to them…"

"…I still think it's very improbable that two so similar races…"

"Similar like asari and human Valern? As I wanted to say, don't you think showing that we care even for those humans who left the Alliance would be a boon?"

Nodding thoughtfully Sparatus' mandibles clicked audibly:

"That's true…with the raising popularity of the humans after they rescued us and saved the citadel any points for us would be welcome… and I think we should have this matter solved before Councillor Anderson joins us."

Smiling warmly at her fellow Councillors approval Tevos signed the orders to channel funds towards the missionary happily, they might learn to trust the council, the incident can be hidden and forgotten, the council can devote its time back to the important matters and if you look at the missionary's last words anyone should be reassured, a religion which preaches that faith is stronger than any WMD or warship can only be peaceful and something the galaxy needs.

* * *

"These people need us Missionary Sophana, while the mere tolerance of xeno life is already heresy these humans are utterly ignorant of their divine destiny to rule and the sacrifice of the God-Emperor and from what I have gathered the attack this station suffered was made by a whole fleet of abominable Intelligence."

While Sister Marie's demeanour was calm on the outside, Flavia could understand just fine how the wish to purge this abhorrent station was building up in the heart of a truly faithful, just looking at all the humans who were tainting themselves just by living together with the deceitful xenos on this station.

The more the small Imperial group saw the greater their disgust became as they strolled through the market of the Zakera ward's market, having rejoined each other at one of the lifts, where Sister Marie gave the ignorant xeno a "heartfelt" goodbye, exchanging Omni tool addresses before rejoining with her respected superior on the market, watching the comings and goings of humans and xenos with a carefully schooled expressionless mask.

Moving silently through the crowd, their clothes and trinkets helping to quickly form a passage in front of them as the passers-by seemed to evade them as much as possible, some humans with an asari companion suddenly finding themselves staring into condemning dark eyes that might have killed with the right bionics, but so only made them hurry away quickly from the nut job, whose carrying a staff with multiple microphones on top of its end.

"What will be our future approach to this…situation from now on, honoured missionary?"

Sister Marie asked in a near whisper as she followed the once again hooded Flavia, who was heading into the darker part of the ward with bars open on both sides of the road and garish colours advertising one or another drink for everyone.

Even the short glances they got in passing where disgusting humans and xenos alike drooling at more of these blue skinned witches who were stripping or dancing on stages with nearly no clothing, this was just not normal, maybe the Arch enemy had a hand in their creation?

Their musing got interrupted as a door opened next to them and a human man was thrown out of it, nearly bumping into the missionary.

Taking a step back Flavia examined the man, he was wearing black clothing, rather plain while his body was athletic, showing the traces of regular training, the small insignia on his cloth's shoulder quickly let her identify him as a member of the human navy outside the station, looking at him she noticed how his hands were moving over the floor as if he didn't know where he was or…couldn't see. Nodding to Marie, both of them reached down and started to lift him up again.

"Don't worry, we are helping you", Sister Marina said helpfully as he struggled slightly.

Upon hearing a soothing voice he gave a weak nod and got on his feet again, using the help to balance himself to a bench, where he sat down and gave the imperials a grateful smile.

"Thank you, I'm still a bit new at the whole being blind thing", he tried to joke weakly, "I'm….I was Ensign Thomas Fletcher from the 24th fighter Group, so once again thank you for your help."

Reaching out and squeezing his shoulder softly with her hand, Flavia leaned closer to him inspecting the bandage which glued over his eyes like a plaster, before asking slowly;

"Won't the navy pay for a set of bionic eyes?" At home, even the guardsmen and void born could hope for a low-grade bionic which was easily cobbled together and distributed by a tech priest.

"Ohhh they would, if my nerves wouldn't be totally fried and any surgery on them far too expensive, where is the justice in that? Five-sixth of my Group died distracting this Geth Dreadnought Sovereign, we were the first to engage and only broke off after it was destroyed and while the fallen at least get a burial with all military honours I'm left blind and with my bit of pension…just great."

Hearing the destiny of this pilot Flavia smiled softly, no matter how corrupt, how decadent and tainted a ruling class maybe, even here surrounded by xenos humanity was a shining light, its pilots and warriors willing to give their life for their families and home, maybe not yet deliberately for the Emperor himself but human nature was prevailing.

Ensign Fletcher flinched slightly as a pair of hands cupped his head gently, fingertips moving over his bandaged eyes, his mind still wondering just why he just ranted his problems to a stranger, a stranger who had helped him but nonetheless…he could barely cry out as a small shock when through his eyes and a burning feeling filled his eyeholes for a moment, strong hands holding him as he tried to thrash around.

Gasping for breath the pain finally subsides and he could feel someone starting to pull on his bandages, making him quickly start to protest:

"Hey! Don't do that…whatever you just did hurt like hell, but the doctor ordered the bandage should stay on till he says-argg"

He cried out as the bandage came off his skin unwillingly, sending a short pain through him, his eyes automatically closing to defend themselves as a strong but soothing feminine voice came from in front of him:

"You should be proud and rejoice, for there is no greater glory than a lifetime of dutiful service and in the end every sacrifice will be living on in His memory."

Ensign Fletcher didn't count himself as a religious man and most men would have lost any hope when they were attacking an enemy which seemed invulnerable to his weapons and was forced to hear his comrades dying screams. But right now at this moment which seemed filled with the loss of everything his life held dearly and with an unclear future, at this moment he opened his eyes and saw. It wasn't the mere seeing which seemed like a miracle in itself as the dark contours around him became sharp again and he regained his vision, it wasn't like he was seeing a some sort of divine glimpse in this moment, but what he saw was a smile.

It wasn't a happy smile, being merry because of his healing; it wasn't a kind smile which was carried by the nurses or doctors which told good news, not at all.

What he was seeing at this moment was a smile filled with pride, pride not only for him but for something more, this smile seemed to remind him of ages long past, when priests went into the field with the troops, blessing them and promising the paradise in death.

But this one didn't, her clothing wasn't adorned with pictures of hope but those of death, her healing wasn't a miracle for his own good, it filled him with the knowledge she saw him as being part of something bigger, this wasn't a reward out of pity, nor for the sacrifices, but for the mere fact of doing his duty and going beyond was just part of it.

Raising his hands to his face, he ran his fingers around his healed eyes, the charred and blistered skin of a glance by an energy weapon was gone, he could see.

Looking up to his saviours, he didn't feel the fear others had, he knew what they were, they weren't the clerics that comfort you to move over your loss, they were priests of battle.

He looked up to the hooded woman in front of him, whispering a simple "How?"

She only looked down at him with a smile, not kind, not happy, not pitying but proud as she reached out for his hand, depositing a small weight in his hand, closing it around a small metallic object, before simply continuing to smile.

Opening his palm he brought the small pendant closer to his eyes and for a moment he seemed to be able to read the foreign and alien words, which hide behind familiar letters.

"The Tools of our Salvation are Faith and Bullets."

"Till now you only had one, but now Ensign Fletcher of the 24th fighter group, you shall fulfil your duty for humanity and the God-Emperor who has given you the chance to do so through our intervention."

The words seemed to hit something deep inside of him and he remained on the bench staring at the pendant for some time, it was made from silver, showing a bird of prey with its wings spread and his claws ready, but it was different, it had two heads one seeing and one blind, he was so deep in thought that he barely heard his saviours question:

"Would you know when the next shuttle leaves for Cyrene?"

* * *

**For the Readers:**

* * *

originalname412: to true and I hope you have liked this chapter and that the future ones might suit you too

Doc4: Most likely, but isn't it nice to believe in the good of people?...ok, this three might be the wrong ones for that

Jouanit: Thanks and no, it isnt.

Lovin it: Thank you and I'll try. And regarding the slaves...no one likes Batarian Slavers...no one misses them.

DeathAdder47117: Thank you for correction this chapter!

The Lone Swordswolf: They are not going to join Shepard, whos going to be dead the next 2 years anyway, but the story will follow the canon timeline and small things will intersect between both and no: no Cerberus takeover

RandomReader: Thanks I know Latin and need it in university, but Missionarius Galaxia is handled the same as Missionaria Galaxia, its the same name for one organisations, which is, like the armed Missionaries, part of the rule books and lore, you can even take them as part of your IG Army I guess... And yes, as you said it yourself it is having this as a parallel universe because of the Warhammer 40k lore.

Blinded in a bolthole: Nice idea, but I dont want to mess with human evolution traces on earth and it wouldn't matter anyway. And you are right they are powered, which is one a first glance less spectacular than a chainsword, but fear not chainsword and flamer will make many appearances later. And yes, they are both from the Adepta Sororitas, but I choose two of the less known orders for a change.

CigarChomper: Thank you and..there is always sense in prayers, just how you twist it~


	3. The shortest Spectre career

**Chapter 4**

* * *

**Thought of the Corrector: I think that was the shortest spectre career ever...**

* * *

Sometimes it really didn't pay out to stand up and sometimes it just wasn't worthwhile to become a spectre for the citadel council; at least the new salarian Council Spectre Zudar Paelane thought so as he was staring at the interface for the corvette he had gotten to transport the "guests" or Imperials as some started to call them, to the moon Cyrene.

They couldn't really fault the choice, it even seemed that the Imperials had their own world named Cyrene which became some sort of religious symbol of dutifulness, but of course everything seemed religious to them.

Sighing he reached out with his hand and swept over the controls on his right, making a small projection appear instead, showing the three Imperials in their rooms, the missionary was leaning over her book….who had a book in this age anyway, while her companions, who were from some kind of nun order were kneeling on the floor and reciting songs since hours.

And this was the day, Spectre Zudar Paelane, member of the STG and the direct agent of the council: sitting in a cockpit, staring at the autopilot, looking at an outdated entertainment library and the five VI programs which replaced the usual ten men strong crew of the vessel. Being chauffeur for three primitive religious madwomen didn't really help to raise his mood as he stared at the navigation VI, while he could intellectually understand the reason why it was so important to transport the sole three specimens of a race they had discovered….why did he have to be chosen to transport them?

Sighing to himself he pointed the VI's at the next mass relay and looked down at the datapads the council had given him on their guests: a deeply religious Society, which even had at least one planet covered in religious buildings and seemed to have built an empire without Mass relays only relaying on standard FTL, making coordination between planets very hard and might even lead to "loosing" a planet when they get into a crisis.

Admirably, but of course totally unneeded if they would just have mass relays but at the same time, would any of the council space be able to expand even out of their home systems without mass relays? Maybe, but these Imperials must be old and have a long space faring history to reach any expansion like this and while they didn't seem to have any interesting technology on themselves and most likely nothing of interest at their home, the cultural implications was making some analysts drool already.

As the council was pretty much occupied with the whole mess at the citadel, while at the same time not trusting anyone else to continue the first contact they were relying on the information they could get by observing them, not that the short talk between Councillor Tevos and missionary Sophana didn't fuel everyone's interest already.

But really; The Imperials already sounded like the opposite of the turians, relaying in faith instead of weapons? Religion instead of warships?, sure sounded like the Hanar and they didn't seem as xenophobic as the flying jellyfishes, more like a tense politeness, but of course that was to be expected at such a first contact with them in a weaker position and far away from home. But all in all it might not be a total lose, if it could at least keep some pro-council sentiments under human colonists going and with the chance to make a small change in their health structure and such….there could be worse ways to use funds.

Continuing his musings for a moment he was finally snapped out of them as the corvette was closing to the first mass relay, its spinning centre as fascinating as usual when an idea entered his mind, activating the camera in the visitor's room, he gave their walls the projection of the ship as they came along the mass relay, the ship getting into its reach, the blue field flickering to life all around the ship as it was shot out of system by the relay, the surroundings becoming a blur of blue and violet streaks as the ship was catapulted towards the next relay.

The spectre wasn't disappointed, all three Imperials stopped in their prayers and jumped to their feet, drawing their swords of all things as they looked at the projection and then at each corner of the room as if expecting some sort of ghost to erupt from the corners.

He became truly puzzled by their behaviour as they remained in the centre of the room, with swords drawn and back to back, like in a holovid about historical adventures...only to start praying again, not seeming to stop as the travel stopped and they arrived next to the next mass relay with the swirl of colour dying down on the screen.

Taking a quick look at his passengers he reached to his arm and activated a small recording tool for further studies:

"They, the Imperials, seem to think their religion and subsequent praying is able to solve all their problems and concluding from their behaviour they are not familiar with any effect similar to the travel through a relay, they even seemed to be terrified by it for a moment, drawing their melee weapons and intensifying their prayers. From this observation we can conclude multiple things: first of all that the current theory of them lacking any method of travel other than our FTL seems to be true, their reactions to the nearly instant travel seems to be, again: compared to human and asari mime and gestures, surprised.

Furthermore their first reaction was the seizing and unsheathing of their swords, indicating that they are not merely decorative, but the first weapon of choice. Using such weapons over their pistols, which we have been scanned for any eezo traces which they do not have, meaning either an unreliability of their guns, which is unlikely as they didn't seem that surprised from most citadel tech and must be similar so far in their development or at least have the ideas behind some things, or that using swords seems to be a deeply ingrained part of their culture, even overriding common sense when placed in combat. It should be seen, that their sword styles might be catalogued and later on added to official records, it might be one of the surprises a cultu-"

Spectre Paelane never got to finish his note, as he was violently thrown backwards into his seat, as all warning lights seemed to flare up on his interface and he could barely see the contour of a ship close to frigate size before another hit shook the whole ship and sent him tumbling out of his chair and on the floor of the small bridge the corvette had.

Swiftly he stumbled upwards again, shaking his head slightly, his right horn having taken a much too close acquaintance and his skull throbbing slightly, he was already in his seat, his hands dancing through the air in great haste trying to find out just what happened.

"Zudar Paelane of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance, how fortunate to meet you here and that even on your first mission as a spectre."

A gloating voice suddenly filtered out of the corvette's communications as the picture of a batarian with a rather pleased look came into view, his four eyes staring at Paelane in amusement.

"We heard you were transporting specimens of a newly found race with humanlike characteristics. Can you imagine what one might get for them on the market? They would have novelty, the charm of asari and humans some indulge in and of course our customers would love to explore their limits and abilities to no end. Would you be so kind as to fly into our hangar, we can assure you we made space for you to fit in just snuggly."

The batarian "offered" with the sarcasm dripping from his last words as Paelane was still cursing his luck and trying to judge if he should try to flee, risking the VIPs or comply in hope of overwhelming the pirates on their ship…

"And don't get any ideas Spectre, you won't bring any weapons on-board with you and if you try that you can be sure your nice little corvette will be blown from space, leaving your dear colleagues no traces to find us, so your choice would be?"

"You must be mad to think I would just surrender myself to you, we are only one jump away from the citadel you won't even have time before the patrol re-enters the sys—",

The rest of his words turned to ash on his tongue as he remembered the state of not only the citadel fleet but also the patrols were right now, less ships patrolling the "safe" centre of the galaxy right now, letting small ships like…a frigate slip through them. The amused smirk of the batarian only showed that he had just the same thoughts right now and knew that no help was going to come soon, or at least not in time to help him.

"I see…but I still won't give you my passengers, it's the council's own demand that they reach their destination without a problem, so if you want to get them, come and get -"

The Salarian didn't get to finish his sentence once again, this time gasping for air as strong hands closed themselves around his mouth and for a moment he had the terrible thought that the pirates might have already boarded, just how? Zero G suits with magnetic boots and hull cutters? Pirate stowaways, hidden in the storage room? The only thing he could see right now were the red colour of the robe's sleeves….robes….the Imperials.

Two hands grasped his face and slowly tilted his head to the left, while he knew it was showing deference for the pirate, he didn't know just why the Imperials got the information, maybe to improve relations? They might come to rival the asari in diplomacy if they always minded the subtle gestures of other species like this.

But right now this only served to make the batarian stare surprised at his screen for a moment before erupting into laughter and tilting his head to the right in return, before looking at the three Imperials behind the salarian.

"So you are having a Spectre around your little finger already? I'm expecting you to be in my ship in five minutes and to make me quite rich, you three."

As the connection was cut from the other end, the bridge dimmed down, only the orange glow of the holograms and the low red alarm lights making anything visible right now, the damage reports showing nothing major as the pirates want their "goods" undamaged.

Goods which, as Paelane was seeing in disbelief, were walking quite carefree towards the corvette's hangar as if being brought into slavery wasn't any reason to worry.

Jumping up from his chair he walked after them until he reached the missionary, grabbing her shoulder and turning her around, wanting to make her see that standing down was no option and there had to be another way to…his thoughts came to an end as the ever smoldering red of her bionic eye was staring at him from underneath her white hood, the ruby in the eagle on her chest reflecting the light maliciously.

"We…we can't…I mean the council ordered me to keep you safe and….the pirates…"

He babbled quickly, maybe to quickly as the missionary didn't seem to reply only regarding him with the red unwavering stare of her eye, as he absently reached to the side and took his assault rifle from a locker at the side,

"Missionary, when we surrender to them, they will…"

_**"There is only the Emperor, and he is our shield and protector."**_

Flinching at the vehemence and finality those words were spoken to him in, Zudar took his trusty gun and slowly put it down, letting his pistol accompany it in the locker as he gave the VI's their directions and slowly followed the Imperials into the hangar, "Does he also protect me?"

* * *

Weary, old, having seen better days and needing much more maintenance to look pristine once again: the frigate's hangar might as well be the epitome of the batarian navy and no matter how relaxed the ten batarians arrayed around the corvette's lowered loading bridge seemed to be, Paelane recognized their postures and steady grips on their weapons as military not just some pirate gang, which dared to come so close to the citadel.

At a second glance the equipment lying around in the hangar of the batarian frigate seemed to support the theory, while the equipment wasn't as modern as other navies it was still some ways above the budget of some random slavers or pirates.

His thoughts came to a halt as the batarian who contacted him before strode confidently into the hangar standing in front of their little group, while the salarian himself brought himself between the slavers and his charges, meeting the batarian head on in the middle.

"Spectre Paelane, I'm captain Kopmabar and it's a pleasure to see you have taken the peaceful way, I assure you that you will be…."

Whatever the captain wanted to say, Spectre Paelane never got to hear the rest as strong hands shoved him from behind with surprising strength, sending him forward, crashing right into the batarian who tried to evade and both of them stumbled towards the other batarians who brought their weapons up and aimed at the Spectre and the white haired Imperial who had shoved him forward and was now standing just behind both of them, using both the Spectre and the batarian to obscure her reach into her robes as she pulled her inferno pistol out and pressed its tip against the Spectre's back as they closed the last few inches of distance towards the guards.

Modern hard-suits consist of a dual layer, the inner layer working with fabric armor and kinetic padding to keep the wearer safe from crushing against any edges and with hard ceramic plates on the less mobile parts of the body. But in the end the true protection of each suit lies with the outer layer, the automatically generated kinetic barrier which stops all projectiles which hit above a certain velocity, by using tiny transmitters and a repulsive mass effect field to deflect them.

And while the hard-suits were ever evolving, ever changing and improving they were not much use against environmental hazards as of yet, neither against heat nor radiation and the batarians were now having to expect both coming to knock at their doors as Sister Marie's finger pulled the trigger on her inferno pistol, with its muzzle pressed against the back of the salarian. Inferno pistols are unlike any mass effect pistol, they seemed crude from the outside, unwieldy and inelegant compared to a carnifex for example, it seemed utterly alien.

But no matter how ugly it seemed with its round bulbs above the handle containing the gas it need for its operation, it was working and after a short pressing against the trigger the nearly ten thousand year old pistol fired its fiery breath at the xenos.

One thing that was sure is; Spectre Zudar Paelane didn't feel any pain.

He could have felt how the muzzle was pressed against his back, but at least this feeling might have been stopped by the armour he was wearing, but the moment Sister Marie pulled the trigger he was incinerated, he wasn't in flames, he didn't burn, just what was one moment ago a salarian was a pile of ash and molten ceramic in a blink of an eye.

But Paelane didn't change his state alone, captain Kopmabar was a pile not dissimilar to him, his pistol forming a gently curved trail of melting steel on the ground.

Sharing their fate were seven of the other batarians who stood to close to them, the backs of their armours still barely resembling their original shape but now filled with ash and a few charred parts of the former wearers.

But compared to the three batarians in the rear these fates still seemed merciful, the armour melting heat of the inferno pistol, usually used to break holes into the hardest armours like those of Terminator Marines didn't just incinerate the unlucky Spectre who was used as a distraction and meat shield as well as the batarian soldiers between the Imperials and the door out of the hangar, but also melted the alloys of the wall and the floor, melting and twisting it, puddles of steaming hot slag dripping from the walls and the ceiling, right on the last guards, their armour in a similar state and burning into their flesh just like their weapons which had turned into searing slag just as well, burning away their gloves and the hands underneath them. But the three Imperials ignored the tortured cries of pain in cold blood as they strode around the affected area, the clank of their steps highlighted against the background pops and clanks of the superheated alloys next to them as they reached the door.

Missionary Sophana couldn't help but smile to herself; this was familiar ground again, no smiles, no talks, just one's holy duty to cleanse all xenos from the face of the galaxy in the name of the God-Emperor. But even behind their so human like masks the wickedness of these xenos was lurking, didn't they let humans be enslaved by these four eyed xenos? Didn't they look down at humanity? Not that this fact was surprising, the local pocket empire called Systems Alliance which seemed to be used like a lobotomized grox and if this Ensign Fletcher was telling everything accurately, the damned xeno council she had to meet was only living thanks to the price of human blood, which was paid to rescue them.

**"Missionary, the door mechanism is still open and Sister Marina reports panicked xeno chatter on the vox channels she can find, we should now go and cleanse this ship."**, the voice Sister Marie came from her right, having taken a crouch next to the door, her power sword, resembling a long sword in her right hand with her finger above the activation rune, the inferno pistol already back in her robes.

**"Good, take position next to the door, we will have to make our way to the bridge of this ship and if it compares to the flimsy layouts we have seen so far it should be either at the tip, so we just have to strike our way forward, at the work of an hour for His most faithful servants."**, with an eager look at the door she activated her own power sabre, Imperial Guard issue, and held it in her right hand, while her left hand was holding a Mars Pattern Mark IV Command Laspistol, also Imperial Guard issue, as she looked at the Sisters **"To be hunted-"**

**"That is the mark of the Xeno."**, Sister Marina continued as she also pulled her own laspistol from the Imperial Guard's stocks from her holster and held it in the left hand, her staff still in her right, before closing her eyes and intoning:** "To be purged-"**

**"That is the fate of the Xeno"**, finished Sister Marie as her free left reached out and touched the holographic lock of the door, letting it slide open just to reveal the surprised look of a batarian in full armor, with at least five more security guards standing behind him just wanting to storm into the room to see what happened and just how radiation could appear inside the ship, which blinded the internal sensors.

**"To be cleansed-"**, the missionary intoned as she moved fluently around the corner, her sabre up and crackling with a blue halo of electricity, as it came down and passed effortlessly through the first batarian's barrier, armour ceramic and finally through his own soft neck, coming out again without a drop of blood but accompanied by the stench of scorched flesh as the body falls backwards and landed with a loud thud, the noise finally breaking the other batarians out of their bewilderment they had felt when they were charged with a sword of all things, but with their sergeant, one head shorter they did the sensible thing: dive into cover.

**"That is the fate of all Xenos!"**, both Sisters yelled as they broke out of their cover to throw the slavers into disarray before they could lay down fire along the narrow hallway were only some crates were offering any sort of cover for either group.

The second closest batarian could only cry out as he slide behind a crate only to have a white haired, nearly two hundred year old Seraphim jump over it gracefully, landing behind him and bringing her sword around in the same movement, its crackling blade tearing through him like tissue paper and parting him in half as a gurgled scream fought out of his mouth, making his comrades urgently lay down covering fire on Sister Marie as she crouched behind her own crate herself now. But not for long as two loud cracking sounds notified the hearer of a rush of heated air, as two bright red and orange beams raced through the hallway near the speed of light giving none of the intended targets a chance to take cover again as batarian heads met the Imperium's most humble type of weapon: the laspistol, which shots passed right through their barrier before hitting their helmets in a small explosion of heat which melted clean through them and blasted their skulls open for their superheated brain mass to leak out onto the floor as their bodies fell to the floor lifelessly their brain exposed to the surroundings half cooked and charred, the only minor traces of blood which were not vaporized spread around so little that it was disturbing.

At least the last two batarians thought so, as they huddled behind their cover and shouted into their communicators in panic, firing the assault rifles blindly over the crates, not wanting to risk peeking out to get hit by a direct energy weapon of all things!

Not that it did them any good as Sister Marie used the lessened fire on her position to leap over her cover and then theirs lithely, her sword's tip finding its way into the first batarian's chest even before she touched the ground again, letting his comrade stumble backwards in terror only to expose his head to a shot from the Missionary, the heavy command pistol vaporizing his face and most of his head with ease and only leaving a few charred stripes of him as the corpse hit the ground.

**"Cleansed…the xeno vox seemed to have grown even more frantic, it seems the xenos' second in command is trying to rally them at their work stations and seal themselves in, they are thinking the spectre is killing off the security teams."**, Sister Marie announced without any sign of worry as of yet, while a small smile played around the missionary's lips as she heard the xenos' expectations, this might be quite a good way to resolve the situation with the citadel species afterwards.

**"Sister Marie, take one of the least damaged corpses with us, I fear we will have to use the lift to get into their bridge."** Flavia ordered after a small moment of planning, before walking up to the Elevator and pressing its lock, gesturing for the Sisters and the corpse which "only" got stabbed to follow, before giving them a praising nod as she stepped into the circular lift and set it into motion to the top floor as everyone was inside, both her and Sister Marina taking the sides with the Sister of the Orders Sabine taking the middle with the corpse held by her from behind;

**"Remember: Against the Alien and the Traitor there's no fair way to fight."**

Before the Sisters could answer with more than a nod themselves the lift came to a stop again and the door retreated leaving the bridge personnel of twelve gaping at them from behind a makeshift barricade of chairs and a table, raising three assault rifles and maybe six pistols unsteadily at the group but hesitated as they saw no trace of the salarian spectre with them but instead one of their security group, standing in front of their future slaves who were brandishing swords and pistols, but it couldn't be that they…

Thoughts in that direction didn't get much further as Sister Marie tossed the dead corpse forward, letting it hit the barricade and using it as a stepping stone to leap over it as she brandished her sword and it flared up to life once again crackling electricity letting the batarians shriek as they tried to scramble aside or open fire, only hitting each other in their close surroundings, while the long sword found its way into the belly of the first batarian unlucky enough to be next to Sister Marie's landing spot, the skull in its crossguard laughing mockingly at him as the rifle glided out of his lifeless fingers, the sword exiting to the side and swung upwards in an arc cutting the hands of a pistol wielding technician off leaving him howling at his cauterized stumps, letting the defenders descend into mad panic, shooting in the direction of the sword wielding nightmare which seemed to have stormed their ship, only to hit each other or stumble out of their cover and getting picked off by the bright red beams of the two laspistols who's crackling noises gave their own part to the symphony of melee which had erupted in a way most modern navy actions hadn't seen since the time wooden ships were engaging each other with broadsides of cannons.

And while the batarians were being cut down one by one, or shot right through their barriers whenever they showed any place which could be aimed at, Sister Marie danced around them, while she didn't have the unnatural grace of an eldar, or the enhanced gene seed of a space marine, she had more than a hundred years of training and experience from the moment she was chosen to be inducted into the Order Militant, her natural agility, faith and combat prowess leading her into the Seraphim squads where she became an expert of all maneuvers one could do on their feet or in mid-air itself.

And so her sword slid through the air in calculated moves, disarming and dismembering in the literal meaning of the words as the small group of defenders melted away around her falling through either the Imperials or their own fire.

Finally the last batarian fell from a strike splitting him in half from shoulder to groin, and the missionary and Sister Marina closed up to the barricade, taking one of the corpses and throwing it across the lift's threshold to stop it from moving downwards again as they jumped over the barricade and gave Sister Marie a small nod, who seemed largely unharmed except some holes in her robes which might have come from the splinters the wild shooting had produced all around her from the furniture the barricade consisted off.

**"The pilot is hiding in the cabinet over there."**

The missionary announced after a quick look around with her bionic eye, pointing at a rather large locker at the side of the command central, next to the door leading to the pilot seat.

Nodding Sister Marie walked up to the cabinet and pulled the door open, making a sobbing batarian tumble out of it and landing on the floor looking around fear stricken at what must be something like demons to cut through his comrades with such weapons and ease.

Reaching down, the white haired Sister pulled him up with one hand, her sword always staying close to his chest as she turned him until he face the member of the Order Dialogous, who just got her instructions from the Missionary as she stared coldly at the batarian.

"Xeno you might rejoice, as the esteemed Missionary Sophana is offering you a chance to help us in progressing the God-Emperors divine will, by using your techno sorcery for us."

Quickly tilting his head to the left a small bit of hope blossomed inside of him, as he hurried to a workstation on the wall, ready to do just about anything to evade the fate of his former comrades who were now either minced meat, their parts littering the ground or even worse: their eyes together with their heads vaporized by something impossible: a hand held laser weapon!

"Good xeno, now you shall use your soulless machine to open the airlocks in all rooms which do not lead from the hangar to here, so that their deaths may further His cause."

Coldness seemed to spread in the pilots stomach as he turned towards the console and started to override the security measurements, trying to stop himself from thinking of the seventy other crew members, mostly technicians and caretakers for the ship and the slaves…

"ehhh….Ma'am? There are still slaves in slave pens should they be…" he started slowly, maybe he could…

"Are there humans in them?" the red robed Sister interrupted him sharply before getting a small nod of approval from the Missionary.

"…they are mixed, some asari, turians and humans we got from a shuttle, not more than twelve, they would have given a bit of extra profit after we…."

"Silence xeno. Are those slave pens connected to the elevator?", after getting a small nod, she leaned forward and watched the ships diagram over his shoulder, "Any of your kind still with them?", after getting a head shake now she nodded "Good, then spare them as well and vacuum the rest of the ship."

Hearing the order with gruesome anticipation he entered his command and closed his eyes, seeing how his comrades….friends were sucked out of their rooms and flung into the cold, their souls trapped in their corpses as their eyes got detonated by the vacuum and cold, their dying breath cursing his name and…laughter?

Turning around he could see that these Imperials…no, monsters, had found the display of an exterior camera and were laughing of all things as they could see the air being sucked out of the ship, batarians wildly moving around without any use as they seemed to become smaller and smaller, doomed to die when their suits oxygen was depleted or already dead when they even lacked a helmet and these monsters were laughing as his friends died? Cold rage built up inside of him as he jumped out of the chair to harm them in some way, no matter how, just to find himself face to muzzle with the barrel of the Missionary's laspistol, who pulled the trigger without a second thought and splattered his head all over his console as the headless corpse dropped to the ground.

**"The xeno is wicked and treacherous, and ruthlessness is the virtue of the faithful. Sisters, we have done our sacred work for the Emperor in cleansing this ship, we shall liberate our brothers and sisters who were enslaved by those foul xenos and destroy this piece of techno heresy, would that be possible Sister Marina?"**, Flavia said in a measured voice as she turned back towards the sisters and the lift again.

**"Certainly Missionary, the xeno tech is showing its primitiveness and lack of respect shown to its machine spirit by its simplicity and eagerness to destroy itself, we could utilise their reactor and destroy this sorry excuse for a ship easily."**, Sister Marina supplied and stepped towards a less charred console, swiftly pressing the needed xeno runes until a red warning light appeared,

**"It's readied."**

Giving her a sharp nod in return missionary Sophana turned back and leapt over the barricade once again, with her robe bellowing around her legs as she came down again and entered the lift, followed shortly by both sisters who had sheathed their weapons again, kicking the xeno corpse aside before the door closed again and they moved downwards.

* * *

The slave pens as the xeno had called them didn't really impress Flavia, compared to some of the under hive or lower parts of some battleships she had travelled on they even seemed quite comfortable with a mattress and electrical lights, inside the cell like structures were eight humans, two asari and two of the bird like turians, 3 out of 4 wasn't that terrible.

Gesturing towards a console she watched Sister Marina hurry towards it, starting to search for the correct rune to release them, while Sister Marie walked up in front of the cells and waved with an easy smile, slipping back into her role to keep them calm.

Finally the doors to the cells opened and their inhabitants hesitantly stepped out, the two asari were first, both with a rather groggy expression, needing support from each other to remain standing. Similar views were the two turians, but in their case it was from one of them being old, at least as far as she could read these xenos, supporting him was a younger member of the same species, but slimmer than those she had seen so far, maybe female?

The last ones to step out were the humans, they seemed like the typical inhabitants of an Agri-World with strong arms and legs and brown, rather plain coloured clothes which would not hinder them when working, there were two women and three men, the other three being children, ranging from the age of ten to fourteen, all of them even the xenos looking at her and the Sisters curiously and with gratitude in their eyes.

Setting a false smile on her lips she bowed and formed the sign of the Aquila with her hands, trying to concentrate on the humans and not the xenos she was facing, while Sister Marina translated:

_**"Greetings, I'm Flavia Sophana, Missionary of the Ecclesiarchy, if you would please follow us, council Spectre Paelane is still on the bridge to give us the opportunity to escape."**_

Straightening up again she gave them another one of her comforting smiles before turning aside and pointing at the lift watching how the xeno limped past her, the older turian seemingly laughing because of something, while the younger tried to calm him down again, both of the blue skinned witches throwing her thankful glances, which made her unwell just from seeing them, before finally her fellow humans walked past, making a small genuine smile appear on her lips as a little girl smiled up to her and the farmers mumbled small thanks as they filled into the lift, only seeming slightly confused by the strange iconography their rescuers were showing, the turian staring at their swords amused, not suspecting the carnage they did only a few minutes ago.

With everyone finally in the lift they took it upstairs and Flavia stepped out glad everything was finally over only for a high pitched scream to make her frown as she turned around and saw two of the Agri-Women holding each a young girl or boy, while their husbands or male companions, were holding them in turn as they looked down the hallway and saw the remains of the five unlucky security guards who had tried to stop the Imperials before.

Sighing as she saw the way everyone except the old turian had stopped and was looking everywhere except at the corpses uneasily, Flavia walked back and spotted the older girl who was standing alone without someone comforting her, but who also did not take her eyes of the corpses. Reaching out and taking her hand the Missionary gave her a smile before slowly pulling her down the hall until they were at the end and she reached down, grasping the cleanly severed head of the batarian at its helmet and lifting it up for the girl to see, while she herself smiled encouragingly and the girl seemed to have the look of someone who was far away as she reached out and touched the visor of it and moved her lips in a small whisper:

"They killed….everyone…I'm alone…" she mumbled as her eyes started to tear up and her arms fell down to her sides weakly.

Seeing that the further audience at the lift was staring at the severed head with disgust and in cases of the humans and surprisingly of the blue xeno too, becoming quite green in the face.

Looking down at the girl the Missionary had to smile, young, malleable and having lost her parents to xenos, maybe not as young as one could wish but there was no better material for a Schola Progenium available right now, so she had to do as the first of many. Letting the head fall down to the floor again and reaching down, pulling the girl into a small hug, not minding how small hands clenched into her robe as the newest Progena sobbed into her chest.

Patting the girls back, she whispered back unheard by the other freed who slowly came closer, their urge to become free once again overriding their shock at the scene.

_**"You are never alone if you believe in Him and he will ask nothing of you but to hate, because hate is His greatest gift to humanity. Do not dwell in despair child, use it, fuel your faith and take vengeance at the xeno for the loss of your loved ones, for the Emperor."**_

Standing up again she gave the Sisters a small nod, who started to usher the group through the doorframe and into the hangar, only for more cries and the sound of people vomiting reaching her ears. Rolling her eyes she held the girl close and looked at the hangar; those weak in faith are truly mollycoddled if they can't even recognize the greatness of His servants work without feeling terrified, but the heathen can't do anything against it as of yet.

Staying behind for a further moment to let the Sisters deal with them and how to place them in the already small "corvette", she looked down at her side and patted the girl's hair, which still clung to her side.

_**"So little one, what's your name?"**_ Flavia asked softly, remembering the few times she already had to deal with children, at least this girl wasn't a stuck up noble's daughter.

"Hailey Satterfield…" came the soft reply from her side.

_**"A nice name, say Hailey, we are alone as well but we want to make a school, a school with many more bright children like you, how would you like to come with us?"**_, the missionary asked gently.

"Can….can I think about it?"

_**"Of course, we need to fly a bit more and in the meanwhile you can think about the offer and the Emperor may guide your choice."**_

Flavia said with a small nod and immediately felt the hug tighten a bit.

* * *

"General Oraka, we are happy that you had time to follow our invitation, we hope you could shed more light on the demise of Spectre Zudar Paelane, while he always seemed very promising, the dedication with which he fulfilled his first and last mission is to be recognized."

Nodding politely the old turian general leaned back into his seat, watching the illustrious round sitting with him around the table, all three councillors and a representative of the STG.

Taking his glass of water and sipping a bit he nods;

"Honoured councillors, even if I'm retired today I still gladly follow all your invitations, but in this case I have to say that I can hardly help you with your investigation, I'm owing my life to the spectre himself, not even thinking of my niece who was captured together with me. But thanks to my situation I had no direct contact with the Spectre myself, I could only conclude some things from the traces of fighting I saw when I escaped together with the three strange humans who freed us."

"General, we don't expect more from you than you can possibly know but…" Tevos started pleasantly only to be interrupted by Sparatus, who looked openly at his fellow turian;

"But everything you can remember might help us to reconstruct the happenings and might enable us to know who killed our Spectre."

"We also found a note of the dead Spectre in a communications buoy, we are also interested in the reactions of the Imperials." The salarian councillor added quickly.

Closing his eyes Oraka nodded.

"The way from the lift to the hangar had traces of heavy fighting, I could see five corpses on the way out, the wounds ranged from heavy cauterized wounds, most likely from some sort of self-made incendiary ammunition the Spectre used, to wounds made from some sort of blade which was able to pass through armour, flesh and bones, in one case decapitating a batarian, while it doesn't seem typical for a salarian but it must have been some sort of overpowered omni-blade. More curious were the remains in the hangar, alloys from the wall and floor were molten and only three bodies could be seen at the border of the scorched area, only some charred remains inside half melted weapons and armour, the Spectre must have been quite cold blooded to utilise such a horrifying weapon, most likely a bomb. The only other thing I can say is that we waited in the corvette for some time to let him rejoin us, but had to flee as the ship was broadcasting the warning that its core was going to overload and we had no other choice, I would presume that Spectre Paelane saw no other way and destroyed the ship to let us escape, an admirable sacrifice in the line of duty."

Councillor Tevos gave him a smile and refilled his glass with water again, before speaking herself:

"Thank you general, this mostly coincides with our own theories, of course we could have made a better guess if…"

"…the Spectres wouldn't have to buy their own weapons?" the STG representative quipped in amused.

"Maybe…" Tevos said with a small glare at him before turning back to the retired General:

"What I would also want to ask, how are the Imperials coping with it, you must have formed an opinion of them or?"

"The three strange humans? Quite a strange getup they wear but they freed me so I shouldn't badmouth them. They seemed to be quite happy staying under themselves, lots of praying the whole time, but they kind of grew attached to the young girl the batarians had also kidnapped and from what I've heard orphaned at the same time, but in regard of the Spectres death they seemed pretty fatalistic they just told me: "It's the God-Emperor's will", what for an Emperor are they referring to anyway?"

"That isn't of any importance for you General, but I take it that you mean the young Hailey Satterfield?" Sparatus asked his mandibles twitching in amusement.

"Indeed Councillor, but might you at least indulge me why you find that so funny?" Oraka asked with his own mandibles twitching as he leaned forward conspiratorially.

"I just thought that just calls for an involvement of our newest Councillor, I'm sure Anderson will be very busy trying to find out from which human colony they came from." Sparatus answered Tevos and Valern both thinking about it before nodding slightly, he wouldn't need to know how they arrived here, just that they are guests who the council owed a debt to.

Let's see how much fun he will have with three humans without any history in the Systems Alliance and a steady stream of funds to settle them on Cyrene, nicely outside of his reach.

* * *

**For the Readers:**

* * *

A Random Reader: As said in the description; Faith alone can overturn the galaxy , but most likely not in barely 2 and a half years.

Blinded in a Bolthole: *Reads the first part of the comment with growing confusion till it reaches the fenrisian wolves* ...yes? He was, is and will be.

Kinunatzs: Thanks and here you go

Jouaint: I think the first part was answered in the chapter above and as for Cerberus, I don't understand people who think they would fit together

eien samara: Thank you

Dukke: Thank you too and I will try

HappySticky: Another: Thank you!

Nagashazzier: Thanks

Emile-A239: But the Ministorum is busy organizing soldiers and weapons to fight the Imperiums wars. Let's see for the rest~

DeusImperator92: You are welcome

Lovin it: we will see...

SanShine: I will try not to disappoint

Reshogu: ... *quickly shakes head*

Broken Trident: It's a bit of a cheat...but I will try not to stress it and it served as a building up for the next chapter and their relations to the Alliance

Barbas Sephtis: Peace through superior firepower

Commissar Critical: *Looks at the name and hides behind desk, fearing a HERESY/BURN stamp, peeks up looking at the comment and faints in relief*


	4. The Foundations

"Who's the next? Is it the committee for the replanting of the presidium green areas, I swear if another hanar/elcor duo comes in again and whines for money I will-!"

Tiredly Captain…. now Councillor Anderson closed his eyes and willed himself to open them again, after getting dealt far too much work which includes staring for hours at paperwork, or at least at the holographic descendants of paperwork, which only used the progress in technology to multiply without control.

The last weeks since the battle of the Citadel and his "promotion" to the first Councillor of the human race by the recommendation of the first human spectre, a certain commander he would love to strangle right now as he looked at another data pad filled with complaints about the missing plumbing and power in the Zakera Ward.

"No Councillor, it's a group of...missionaries? Pardon, but they seem to be sent by Councillor Tevos, we went through their paperwork yesterday, a Hailey Satterfield, went into their care and will be the first member of their new orphanage.", his secretary remarked as he put another data pad in front of Anderson, who took it wearily and eyed the lines and his own signature wearily before nodding slightly and pointing at the door.

"Right….then send them in please"

As the door opened he followed the first thought that came to his mind, the first Councillor of humanity just stared at with his mouth wide open as the four visitors step into the room, all clad in long robes in white, except for the one with a staff with a…microphone? … on top who was wearing one in a red shade. As he slowly fought himself out of his stupor, trying to ignore the heavy golden trinkets which seemed to be some sort of obsession with these women, who seemed to adorn their clothes with them for some purpose, maybe only to impress everyone around them.

And quite impressive it was, with their ornate and most likely ceremonial clothing they were standing out compared to the other people in the waiting area of the presidium, who mostly opted for either light brown or grey plain working overalls or the more expensive suit and dresses, which might be a bit more colourful but not as gold laden as those four.

It might have been just more impressive if the obvious leader of the group, who was walking in the middle, wouldn't have been debating with a young girl, which he only recognized as Hailey Satterfield on the second glance.

It seemed she had fit in rather well with her three, what should one call them: governesses, Protectresses or maybe just plainly teachers?

Anyway; he had to make his assistant check his translator again, it must be malfunctioning as he couldn't understand a word from the conversation between teacher and student and no matter how hard he tried to concentrate he couldn't quite place the tone of the language anywhere on the globe, some nuances sounding eastern while others feel gruff enough to be from a roman language, but what was easy to notice was the slightly uncertain way the girl was speaking it, meaning that it must be the native language of her guardians so he made himself a small note to look up their files later as he leaned into his chair and listened.

**"But Flav-…missionary….it's a dress"**, Hailey whined around as her hands fidgeted over the light white robe she had to wear for this occasion, which reached down to her feet while the sleeve hung over her hands, only a silver Aquila around her neck reminding the onlooker of her guardians rather pompous jewellery.

**"It's not a dress Hailey, it's a still rather plain robe and if you find this uncomfortable you should be glad we are out of contact with the Ecclesiarchy, even a future progenium should show more respect when meeting the most important human in this sector, just as if he would at least be an honored planetary governor."**, the missionary admonished her charge a bit tired from the discussion and their inescapability when travelling so slowly in these lifts the xenos seemed to prefer and it just wasn't advisable to break the girls spirit right now to rebuild it, that still had to wait for the building of the schola if it was really needed, she showed…

**"You know, why do I have to come with you, this will be so boring, can't you tell me of Him again, you were just telling me how the Emperor was watching over humanity when…"**

….showed great interest into the Imperial history. While the growing awe of hers, when hearing the God-Emperors glorious and holy deeds, was certainly approved by Flavia, her lack of discipline was quite irritating at times, but at least her devotion at her daily prayers with her was growing, just as her fluency in High Gothic.

**"Be quiet child, while you can certainly never know enough of His blessed creations and the way His wisdom has guided and lead humanity forward through the ages, you shouldn't keep important men waiting, as to make a man wait pointlessly is just as sinful as obstructing his work directly."**

Seeing the girl nod the missionary let a weary sigh escape her, it must have been at least forty years since she last visited a schola progenium before being sent out on her holy mission again, it wasn't like she couldn't remember her lessons on the administration of a schola anymore, it was just so long ago that she just never expected to bring them to use.

As she banished her idle thoughts she stopped before the desk of the local Governor of the humans, giving him a respectful bow and the sign of the Imperial Aquila as a greeting, while Sister Marina started to translate simultaneously.

_**"Greetings to you Lord Anderson, we are most honoured to have gained an audience with you and hope that He will watch over our meeting benevolently."**_

As she straightened up again, a small smile played over her lips, for once it was an honest one, having taken a small glance at the human Councillor had proven the talks she had heard on-board of the xeno construct as true, sitting before her was a soldier who only reluctantly seemed to shift into the patterns of an adept shuffling reports and numbers around.

Anderson for his part was slightly puzzled and amused at the same time, just where did Tevos find these three? Did she stumble over some Christian splinter group on an independent colony? While the motifs didn't really fit, eagles and skulls instead of the cross but only slightly more morbid than a torture device, the way they talked and dressed reminded him of some historical movies he once watched about the middle ages.

The leather sheaths with swords hanging from their hips did rather promote the parallel and made him think of this academy sword which lay around somewhere and gathered rust.

But who knows what the Asari was thinking, maybe this group was from a sect which has forsaken technology to keep their planet clean or some who tried to find common cultural foundations between the different races, birds of prey and skulls weren't that uncommon after all, everyone even the krogans used them as symbols. Maybe not everyone Anderson slowly concluded, the hanar surely didn't have any skulls to use as motif, but is generally a wide spread form of expressing that everyone would be the same in death…but maybe this whole politics were getting to his head and he was inventing reasons to keep calm.

With the thought: at least they might be more interesting than the replanting committee, he nodded politely and replied:

"It's a pleasure to meet you too Missionary Sophana, Councillor Tevos recommended you quite warmly in her letter to me and told me of your noble endeavour to help the independent colonists in the Traverse, but you don't need to call me Lord or anything, I'm just a Councillor, a regularly newly appointed position."

Ending his introduction with the polite correction of the archaic title she somehow seemed to have come up with, he tried to give them a smile and gestured at the chairs across of his desk.

Seeing the other two women and the girl look at the missionary for a moment before getting a nod in return and moving towards the seats he relaxed a bit as he waited for them to tell him their proposal or, more likely, their request.

_**"Councillor, your colleague Tevos…"**_, he noted she seemed to hesitate bringing the asari's name up, such modesty was quite a change from everyone else who would have flaunted having meet one of the councillors privately_** "…has recommended us to pay a visit to you to ask for your help with the construction of our schola."**_

"I'm sorry, but I might not understand what help you might need, from what I saw the funds the council gave you are well above anything you might need to…", Anderson started with a small frown as he suspected they wanted to leech even more money before beginning anything.

_**"Oh that's not the problem Councillor, the funds are quite generous but we are just finding no suitable company to take over the building of the schola itself."**_ Flavia replied simply.

"That's hard to imagine…I'm sure there are quite enough companies which produce prefabricated containers and modules to house more than enough possible students and while space on Cyrene is a bit short with the need to build Domes to create a sufficient atmosphere, you surely could… "

_**"Councillor.**_", the missionary interrupted him briskly and with vehemence in her tone

_**"We cannot build a schola, a place dedicated to the God-Emperor, not only through the chapel which is part of it, but through the mind set and ideas the progenium will be taught. They shall get the best education we can offer and shall be raised in the Ideals of the Imperium for the glory of the Emperor and the welfare of humanity. I just cannot allow the schola to be build from…from…card boxes! The walls of a blessed building dedicated to the deity of Mankind should be blazing like the faith in our hearts and as unyielding as our courage with which the Emperor has gifted us. We have already ordered the building of a new dome for our purposes Councillor, we have just hoped you could point us towards someone who builds a bit more….durable and personalized."**_

Sophana ended, with her tone becoming calmer again at the end, her eyes bearing down at the Councillor with the righteous fire a member of the Ecclesiarchy builds up in their years of devotion to the God-Emperor of Mankind.

"I see…" Anderson muttered, not sure if he really did,

It wasn't that much what the woman had just said, to him it was only some religious oddities being expressed in the architecture, which wasn't that uncommon. What was perplexing him more was her tone, the sheer conviction with which she had talked about God, or the Emperor as they seemed to title them.

He wasn't a stranger to one or another religion but to be honest most of them were very watered down or were sickly since the discovery of the protean archive and the resulting knowledge about alien life. In school and in his time as an officer candidate he had to attend a few discussion or forums in which the priests major religions meet and talked about themselves and each other, always about how they weren't that different and were peacefully coexisting with each one being one part of the whole truth and with each facets being a rich addition and so on and so forth. But compared till now he didn't notice there was one thing missing: certainty, none of them had the same certainty as this woman before him, who was utterly and adamant with her belief and he just couldn't imagine her sitting in such a discussion nodding pleasantly to just everything anyone else said.

He didn't know just why the other councillors had given up these funds so readily, but no matter why; there could have been worse choices.

Just one part was sending just the wrong feelings, reminding him far too much of a certain terrorist group, making him echo them:

"…the welfare of humanity?...just humanity, not of the asari, the turians, the salarians and the other aliens?"

Whatever it was, the three women mostly found it hilarious as they started to laugh as soon as the red-robed one translated it for them. The councillor and Hailey could only watch them puzzled; as the missionary slowly got her bearings back and answered with a smile:

_**"You shouldn't worry about them Councillor, the Emperor has a place and plan for everyone, it's just common to preach it to other humans as the xenos tend to remain less….enthusiastic when one tries to make them believe in the God-Emperors sacred cause…"**_, her smile depended as she looked at him deeply amused and continued untranslated; **"…we just haven't found a way to make the xenos cleanse themselves for us."**

As he didn't get the last words and the young Miss Satterfield didn't seem any wiser than him it must surely have been some religious set phrase so he just nodded slightly, as it made quite sense…and the hanar could most likely tell you a thing or two about missionary work without results. Leaning slightly backwards into his chair again he gave them a quick glance before reaching for his omni-tool and calling up the contacts for the building company which constructed shelters and semi-military structures on colonies, giving their "schola" the permission to use these services for the stonework and glasses needed in the construction.

"I see, then it calms me down quite a bit as you surely have heard of the organization Cerberus, more organizations with the Agenda of human supremacy above other species would be quite worrying. But regarding your problems, I have given you permission for the use of more resistant materials. They are usually used for the shelters in colonies or for their militias but as you are heading out into independent space and are of interest to my fellow councillors the additional security should be appreciated and maybe a bit of extra funding to the structures could be made available. I hope this was everything you needed and I can say that I'm wishing you fruitful endeavours with your orphanage, have a nice day."

_**"You have our thanks then Lord Anderson, we are sure you must be occupied with the more pressing matters of the Abominable Intelligence named Geth and…"**_, Flavia quickly raised her hand as Anderson tried to deny the title from his position, silencing him with a smile _**"…while your position might seem only temporary right now I have seen similar men starting a hereditary tradition in their offices, if we would be able to provide the full spectrum of His most faithful Adeptus Sororitas, the Order Fabulous would surely have found a suitable wife for a man of your standings…"**_, while Anderson gaped at her, she only gave him the same respectful bow as when she entered, her robe shuffling over the smooth floor as she exited followed by her entourage the girl openly laughing as the door closed again.

**"Should I look into the matter missionary, I'm sure if you give me enough time to initiate a girl in the Imperial Creed we can marry them in the next four to five…"**, Sister Marie started as soon as they stepped into the lounge of the embassy district, curious glances being thrown at them with every step, only to be silenced as the missionary shook her head.

**"He won't be in office much longer anyway Sister Marie, it's regrettable but…"**

**"Why won't he? I mean Captain Anderson is like a big hero or something like Commander Shepard too, isn't he?"**, Hailey interposed from the side of Flavia, who frowned a bit at this but shook her head **"Hailey, he's a soldier. You haven't seen the other councillors yet but they just won't get along for a long period of time, either this or he himself will resign from his post, he didn't seem very content with his work so most likely he will want to be back "doing" something instead of writing papers all day like a scribe."**

**"So we won't have to go to him again? And I won't need to wear this annoying dress again?"**

Hailey asked hope filled, clinging to the parts which were more pressing for her.

Sighing the missionary nodded and patted the girls head softly;

**"You won't….you should go to our hotel with Sister Marie, Sister Marina and I are going to see the clothing store and see to get some basic uniforms and hats for you and your future comrades…and it will be no dress, you will have to do a lot of athletics in it."**

* * *

"It won't rain in the dome; they are unneeded and or only adding costs for the buildings."

Grayson Junior from the Grayson Building and Construction company exclaimed exasperatedly as he stared at the monstrosity of a plan which covered his desk, drawn on paper, real paper of all things, drawn by hand as the madwoman assured him, was a construction plan which seemed to have jumped directly out of the brain of a medieval cathedral architect on drugs; myriads of columns and archways adorning the sides of every building with things, tall columns and sloped roofings soaring high on the sides of the central building which seemed to be the church, while four courtyards encompassed this church which was right in the middle extending into both of the inner yards which closed around it and had two side yards on the their own sides which gave the whole construction the rough sight of a cross from the top down, with a hundred and thirty meter high tower in the middle, which was on top of the centre of the church.

_**"They are tradition; we won't change them just because of your whining",**_ missionary Sophana replied hotly while she stared down at the plan sister Marina had drawn from the memory she had of other scholas she had visited in the past, the chance to build themselves a bit of Imperium far away from it.

"But…why? I mean, I think I got that you plan to build it as close as possible to the gothic architecture of the medieval ages, even if a more modern approach would be far cheaper in production, but can't you just save a bit of…", Grayson Junior protested quickly, while he wouldn't mind all this money going to them for the construction he still had his duty to inform each costumer of the most efficient way things could be done and he honestly thought this woman to be mad with their archaic ideas and design whenever he looked at the plan, not to forget all these skulls which should be built into nearly every niche.

_**"No, we won't insult the Emperor by letting His holy ground be built-up with flimsy boxes and the lifeless glass and steel you seem to prefer for everything. We will neither change the style nor will we abstain from adorning the sides of the buildings with the fearsome gargoyles and the awe inspiring statues of the Saints."**_, the missionary said with vehemence her bionic eye glaring balefully at the man, her hand tracing slowly over the sides of the roofing which were adorned by large gargoyles while the archways gave enough space for the statues of saints or primarchs to look down watchfully at the progenium in the courtyards.

Fidgeting nervously under the glare Grayson Junior finally relented the point and looked back down at the plan, his fingertip coming to a stop at the cross-section showing the interior of the church, with its tall supporting columns and the rows of benches in two floors and with the pulpit next to the large window which took most of the wall at the back of the church.

"Here, if you use the first floor outside to put statues into them instead of windows you will lack light in the sides of the room, then we would have to lay out cables in the walls to give more electrical light for… "

He didn't came much further in his explanation as the missionaries gloved hand pointed at two small drawings on the plan, simply saying; _**"Candlesticks"**_

Looking at her with the faint suspicion that she was indeed mad Grayson Junior gaped "Candles? That would be the most primitive…and cost intensive…and work intensive way you can solve the problem." he muttered as he looked down at the drawing of them.

Shaking her head the missionary crossed her arms looking down at him;

_**"Maybe if you wouldn't be all about comfort and making things easy you wouldn't make people's life in card boxes or xeno architecture. Even our buildings should honour tradition and the history of humanity reminding one of their own strength and ideas."**_

Looking away from her glare Grayson Junior stared down at the plan;

"Even…even if there's something true about that; candles? You need to light them up every few hours or every day if you buy long burning ones, not to forget the soot and grime which will start to gather at the ceiling, I mean who should clean…",

He didn't get much further with these doubts as the missionary interrupted him once again:

_**"The progena will do that, it's a very character building work to clean the church while reciting prayers and litanies for Him, good for learning humbleness and modesty."**_

Seeing that there would be no relenting in this point his eyes swept further over the monstrous plan and finally came to a stop over the dormitories, his finger pointing at the layout of a single room; "Here; why four persons per room? We could easily make more rooms in other parts of the building and let them have two person rooms, if we for example take this room and…"

_**"These are the common showers, I fear to have to remind you that people tend to wash themselves after a time and four progena in fifty rooms are just the number we want, two hundred will be a decent number."**_, Flavia said, a slight annoyance showing in her tone, not being used to clerks like him scrutinize her decisions or at least not so open and even then not a second time the moment it came to the local confessor's notice.

"If you insist…but what about these buildings? I can see that one supplies the room for you and the other teachers and this one is filled with classrooms, but what about these two? They are empty and only have big gates, water and electricity?" he asked, pointing at the two buildings which formed together with some kind of gatehouse the longer part of the cross shaped complex.

_**"These two are the warehouse and the stable for the schola."**_ Sophana replied as if having a stable on a moon was the most natural thing in the world.

"Stable? Wait…I…don't even want to ask…tradition?" Grayson Junior muttered as he holds his head, a headache forming behind his forehead.

_**"Indeed."**_, was the simple reply, accompanied with a smug look as if he was some kind of puppy which had finally learned to do a trick.

"As it is, I do not think my consulting is helping you in any kind as you are already… very certain about your plans." he chose to word their stubbornness regarding totally unneeded and archaic things politely. Carefully rolling the paper together again he put it aside and instead opened the contract for it on his omni-tool sending it to the red robed woman who seemed to be translator and administrator. Before using his best award winning smile again and sending the bill and the information regarding the construction to them, only having to wait a second as the Councils VI's reviewed the order and then transferred the credits.

"A pleasure to do business with you."

He announced with another smile as he stood up and walked to the door opening it for them,

the sooner he got away from these religious nutcases the better for his prolonged sanity.

"We will start with the construction immediately after the building site is accessible in less than fully insulated suits for vacuum works."

_**"That's acceptable."**_ came the curt reply as they walked out of his office, leaving Grayson Junior in his seat, massaging his forehead as he stared down at the plan.

* * *

The sounds of small sobs rouse Missionary Sophana out of her sleep, as she slowly opened her eye, quickly taking in the surroundings as her hand slipped to the grip of her pistol which was lying next to her on the bed. Her bionic eye activated its enhanced visible spectrum a jolt leaping through her nerves as the change into a tinted green, gathering the small scraps of light leaking into the room even in the middle of the night cycle, just a moment before two red and yellow forms flamed up in the neighbouring room indicating two Adeptus Sororitas who were using the night for a mixture of sleep and meditation, kneeling on their beds and whispering litanies for the Emperor.

Carefully slipping out of her bed, her bionic eye swivelled to the side towards the second bed in her room, which was part of an apartment they were given for their stay, showing the orange silhouette of a small body trembling in its sleep. Putting her laspistol back on the nightstand, she stepped closer, a small wincing visible as her bionic eye returned back to the normal human sight, and reached out touching Hailey's shoulder gently, which only made the girl flinch in her sleep and the sobbing continue.

**"What to do…"** Murmured Flavia as she contemplated how to girls grief should be used best;

Should she deepen it? Making the girl forlorn and without direction before moulding her anew? No, this tactic would have been risky enough as those without direction easily fall prey to the foul machination of the Archenemy and while a few suicides from Progeniums were acceptable in the Imperium and only showed that they were unsuited to serve in His blessed forces, here there might be authorities throwing a fuss for just one dead child, or at least as long as this child wasn't killed or enslaved by a xeno.

Inserting the right fear before the Emperor and his servants above her would also be less than ideal right now, at least as long as they weren't in the stable and organized surroundings of a schola. Choosing a third way she carefully slipped into the girl's bed and wrapped her arms around the trembling child, just using the moment to hold her close as she Hailey whimpered in her sleep, wet tears rolling over her cheeks and smearing against Flavia.

Never having had any children herself but having seen them often enough in the living areas the bustling bellies of every Imperial ship housed and in the stone and wood built villages and keeps of feudal words she visited to spread His Name, she had a rough idea on how to proceed from here, trying to make small cooing noises in hope they might be soothing for Hailey. And, Emperor be thanked, it seemed to work as the sobs grow silent and the girl seemed to shift in her sleep, cuddling closer to the missionary who was stroking Hailey's brown hair softly, while looking at her face.

The normal reaction would be to cry out in fear; at least Hailey thought so as she stirred from her sleep and her eyes were blinking slowly as she forced them open, feeling the soreness which came from crying in them and stared into a red burning circle.

Others might have thought of a monster from their nightmares but Hailey thought herself to be a bit too old for silly monsters hiding under beds and closets and she knew what real monsters were, since the day her parents…

A small sob escaped her as she thought of them or the lack of thought she had given them after meeting the missionary and the two Sisters, as everyday here on the citadel seemed to be filled with things to see and things to do, making her look at everything in awe as she was trailing behind the group of Imperials as some had called them.

While she kind of appreciated this, it always left her alone in her bed at the end of the day her thoughts straying back towards the raid on their shuttle and the way her parents had died not because of any reason other than mere bad luck, their deaths being laughed upon by the batarian pirates, as they stepped through the busted airlock and stepped over the parts which were once... the thought alone made her unwell and another series of sobs erupted from within her.

Suddenly a hand touched her hair and she tensed involuntarily before remembering just who it could only be, her sadness yielding to surprise for a moment as she couldn't remember either one of the Sisters nor the missionary herself touching anyone without a real need, not even handshakes being part of their greetings, instead a bow seemed to suffice for everything.

But as it was she leaned against the hand which started to stroke her hair gently and she relaxed slightly as she leaned against the missionary, not minding that only a few weeks ago she wouldn't even have done this with her mother because it would be to childish.

Right now she wouldn't have minded the fuzz her mother always made around her, the way her father always worried about her when she went out and how both always seemed to forget she was already fourteen and not a little child anymore, as long as she could get them back.

But she knew that wasn't possible and she cried, sobbed and trembled freely for the first time in the last two weeks her head rested against Flavia and her body held by the missionary, as she cried out her anguish. After some time, she didn't know just how long she had continued to cry like this, the burning red eye moved slightly and a hand trailed over her cheeks, wiping the tears off it as Flavia's voice, surprisingly gentle, could be heard:

**"A Saint once said: "Do not waste your tears. I was not born to watch the world grow dim. Life is not measured in years but by the deeds of men." Dry your tears child and rejoice;**

**then your parents have found their way to the Golden Throne, were they might sit next to Him till the end of days,**

**rejoice because He has given you the greatest gift for Humanity,**

**rejoice because we offer you the way of duty, work and death which will show you no respite and will enable you to punish those responsible for your parents death."**

The words were reverberating strangely inside of Hailey, what was there to rejoice? The Missionary and the Sisters might be nice enough in a strange distant sort of way, but they weren't her parents and as so far she couldn't see what the God-Emperor, something which was intriguing and confusing at the same time, would have given her.

Without an own idea she did the easy thing; she asked:

**"What's the Emperor's greatest gift to humanity?"**

**"Hatred, then while he gives us Intolerance and Zeal to fight against the enemy in our own chest: the enemy within, the Emperor has given us hate for those enemies you can fight and cleanse with sword and flamer."** was the convicted reply.

Involuntarily her memory seemed to flash back, back to laughing pirates who stepped over the puddles which were once her parents, how they had ridiculed them and then her as she started to cry, the way the other aliens, the asari and the turians had done nothing as she was kicked and dragged through the ship and without really noticing a small sentence slip from her lips: "**Abhor the xeno, as they are wicked and do not care for human lives."**

She looked up, staring into the smoldering red glow of the bionic,

the memories of the first time she had stared into them like this rising up in her mind as she found herself once again in the hallway of the batarian frigate, the floor littered with the parts of the xenos which had laughed about the fate of her parents just days ago, her hand reaching out and touching the severed head and helmet of one of them, her mind seeing that it wasn't a dream, that she was rescued, that her parents were avenged that….she took the missionaries hand. She took the missionaries hand and squeezed it as she looked up with the gathered hatred she felt against her captors, against those xenos which had just looked at her without helping only caring about their own, the feeling she harboured against the Councillors she had met with the missionaries, who sat in their comfy offices and never did anything against the pirates in their whole history.

**"Fortune favours the faithful."** Missionary Sophana whispered pleased as she looked at the determination on the young girls face, the hurt and the urge to hit back against those who had hurt her, it might not be much, but it will be a start.

And here she was holding one girl which had tasted the wickedness, the cruelty but also the corruption and decadence of the xenos first hand and was developing just fine to be indoctrinated in the Imperial Creed, one girl out of thousands of children which have lost family and more in this Traverse or to the lawless from the Traverse.

Fortune was favouring her.

* * *

Officer D'roneus smiled slightly as she piloted the shuttle towards the mass relay; it wasn't every day that the Council called a C-Sec officer for something instead of the spectres.

And normally she would be quite nervous about the whole thing but at the beginning of the meeting it quickly became clear that Marie must have mentioned her positively and because of this she was chosen to fly the requested "supplies" towards their building site on Cyrene.

She had to giggle at how undignified the "supplies" would react at the description, as everything they were doing at the moment was discussing scientific theories and modern educational methods they wanted to try with the bountiful funds they were promised.

So while she didn't care about school much herself, having gone the usual few years as a stripper after it in the beginning of her maiden time, she thought it was quite an achievement of Marie's employer or superior, she wasn't quite sure were the missionary fit in, to get a core of teachers to leave the safe alliance space and work on a small moon with a population not even exceeding five thousand.

But at least Cyrene seemed to be a busy planet, working as a transit station between the Titan Nebula and the Terminus System, which made it one of the semi-safe colonies as even the raiders needed it if they wanted to gain and sell goods form Citadel space and the other way around.

A nice transport mission and a few days to check on the Imperials as the Council asked her to do, let everyone else risk their necks and go and play politics.

While C-sec was trying to get as much personnel in it as possible, even if it is human, and the illustrious Commander Shepard was off hunting the Geth and their outposts,

let Lenostia D'roneus have some paid vacation.

And while she didn't tell anyone a thing she was still pretty sure these three weren't humans, maybe it was just a feeling but she felt a strange kind of thrill as she thought about it and Marie wasn't that bad on the eye either…

Smiling at the thought and the sounds of heated discussion from the passenger cabin she leaned back into her seat as the mass relay shot them towards their destination;

"This is going to be fun~"

* * *

To my readers, is it just me, or did the document reset? Missing all bolt letters, lines and my answers to your comments?


	5. Hail the Emperor!

The toll of the great bell woke her up and quickly her eyes opened fully as her body was already swinging itself out of the bed and reached for her clock: 4:53am…perfect.

Blinking a few times to get the dryness out of her eyes she looked around, her gaze taking in the undecorated grey walls which encompassed her room.

If she would have compared it to her old room on Ferries Fields, she could have shown disappointment, missing the bright and colourful posters as well as her green wallpaper, but right now it was more of a clean cut and a welcome one as well.

The silver Aquila hanging over the door, modelled by Sister Marina who showed deep understanding in building and designing the schola; its open eye reminding her of the eternal vigilance the Emperor was showing to all of humanity.

Vigilance, the word resonating in her mind she walked over to the cabinet, which was, except from her bed and a small table with a chair, the only furniture she owned, and opened it, exposing four sets of clothing to the eye.

While the last one was the same white robe she had worn when meeting Councillor Anderson, now hanging more or less unused in a corner while grey was dominating the rest of it;

Draped on three clothes hangers were a pair of pants, a shirt and a uniform jacket, with a double row of silver buttons adorned by the Imperial Aquila, which reached down to the middle of her thighs if worn, all in a dark grey and for the everyday use. While those were issued as standard to her and her one hundred and ninety nine fellow Progena the three additional pieces in her cabinet were those, which filled her with pride every time she saw them, not because of vanity but as a sign of the trust she had earned:

Hailey Satterfield, Progena of the Schola Cyrene.

The signs of this path were the steel skull which adorned the front of her peaked cap, instead of the barren grey everyone else wore, as well as her greatcoat in a darker grey cloth which is double breasted, but usually left open by her to show the final piece of her uniform;

A blue sash wrapped around her waist, long enough to go twice around her waist; it was knotted on the right side, while a pair of tassels dangled down on the left, just below the short leather belts which are used to be fastened to her scabbard.

Her scabbard, at the thought she glanced up to the wall, a wooden mounting above her bed the only other decoration and holding her most precious possession; a sabre with a black leather sheath. She didn't wield it, the only times she had touched it was when she had accepted it and when she mounted it on her wall, taking it as a reminder of her new path, having promised herself to only wield it when she graduated from the Schola, then as Missionary Sophana taught her:

**"The spirit is like steel, it has to be tempered by faith before it becomes unbreakable, for those firm in their belief to Him will always overcome those with weak resolve, no matter how hard their bunkers and how large their guns will be."**

The months since their departure from the citadel weren't easy ones, Hailey wasn't a stranger to physical labour and workout but the program Sister Marie had started for her was just something else; her days seemingly continued thought training, running, lifting materials on the building site before getting her ass regularly handed to her by one of her three guardians in what they called: combat training.

Mostly it consisted of her getting a knife or sword, not a wooden or training one but a real one, getting told to attack her opponent only for her to land on the floor minutes later quite painfully, her hurt pride about being unable to land any blow recovered slightly when she found out that all three of them were much older than they looked and had decades or even more than a century in Sister Marie's case to hone their skills.

It might have also helped her slightly to see how a construction worker who tried to make a pass on Sister Marie was lifted nearly effortlessly at the scruff by her, before sailing out of the window…it was only the second floor; he came out of hospital a week later.

And when she didn't get thrashed she ended up with the missionary, which was quite enjoyable when she only had to sit down and listen to the tales of a faraway Imperium and while her initial awe and curiosity slowly faltered, the long and bloody history of Heresy and rebellions slowly drowning all hope one could have found in it, she slowly but certainly learned just how great the Emperor truly was.

He wasn't a distant mythological being like in the religions from the Systems Alliance earth,

not a god which changed to human whim and fancy; HE was the true God-Emperor, reigning over a million words even in his grievously wounded state after the Horus Heresy,

An act so vile that at first she couldn't understand what might have lead half of the Emperors own sons and the Astartes, the mightiest of human warriors against Him and in siege against holy Terra itself.

But the loyalists had won by His divine grace and He showed His greatness by ascending on the Golden Throne for the sake of humanity, ending the age in which He walked between man and lead them personally and ascended to His full Godhood and even after ten thousand years the mighty Armies and fleets of the Imperium are guided by His glorious light to the farthest corners of the Galaxy.

Certainly not a tale of the whimsical hope and forgiveness she had heard preached so many times before meeting the missionary; should she be content in hope her parents would have reached a better afterlife? Should she forgive the batarian slavers for their deeds?

With His guidance it became clear; abhor the alien and give your life to protect humanity, hate the alien and let hate guide your hand to cleanse them, let no other children experience their parents and no other human loved ones taken away.

With this thoughts she reached for the baton she was currently allowed to use instead of a sword and fastened it to her belt, before reaching out for her jacket and pulling it on together with the rest of her uniform, at last donning the heavy coat to which warmth she had slowly grown used to before she opened the door of her room and strode into the hallway.

Looking at each unopened door before gazing up at the clock which hung visibly from all directions from the ceiling, she turned at the end of the hallway and went down the stairs, as she rounded the corners nearly bumping another person who was using the moment to come up, stepping aside quickly she recognized the person:

"Heinrich? What are you doing here so early?", she asked slowly, her hand sneaking down to the baton as she waited for his answer, ready to discipline him if he tried to sneak out into the settlement as others have tried before, not that anyone was successful in that.

Instead of an answer his raised his hands, showing her the book he was holding; reading the title slowly Hailey nodded approvingly;

**"The Book of Judgement?"**

Shuffling nervously as his eyes went down to her baton he gulped:

"Yes…it's quite fascinating…the **Lex Imperialis**…some of the laws are…more than ten thousand years old it says…if only…", growing silent he shook his head and Hailey had to mind to stay silent and nodded only slightly.

Of course she had gotten a look at everyone's paperwork for disciplinary purposes so she already knew just why everyone ended up here and in Heinrich's case it was thanks to his parents working for Eclipse on a mining station at a time before their contract was terminated…and both of them as well.

"Don't think about "if onlys" Heinrich. But you should head for the dining hall, as I would say that the rest of our fellow Progena need a small reminder of why it's important to abide to the set timetables."

Nodding slightly with a bit of relief showing on his young face, being only thirteen he still towered above most of the other Progena, including Hailey to her own chagrin, but seemed to have been one of the most silent and meek boys as well, finding much more enjoyment in the hours of reading and the sermons which were being held in the newly constructed chapel.

Nodding to the side she let him pass before resuming her way downstairs she tried to remember the first few points on today's program:

5am: breakfast and followed by a small prayer before and after the meal,

6am: Sister Marie was expecting her and group C at the stables for some help.

7am: she had to accompany work group D into the Chapel and oversee the cleaning.

8am: her inspection and readiness for the arrival of the new teachers.

8:30am: parade ground readiness.

8:45am: The Missionary's inspection.

9am: Arrival of the new teachers: best behaviour.

It was 4:58am and till now she hasn't seen anyone else expect from Heinrich yet, so it was time to give them a reminder why Imperial authority is absolute even if it only came down to the time for the breakfast.

Arriving in the first underground floor she reached for her lanyard and unlocked the door to the water control room, pushing the heavy steel door open and walking towards a small locker. Opening and gazing at the small valves and the overlay monitor, she reached for some buttons and was rewarded with a blinking red interface.

Hailey only had to wait some moments until the first shocked cries came down the stairs as the sprinklers started to work in every room of the dormitory and the late sleepers scrambled out of their growingly wet beds under protest.

Counting to ten with her fingertips drumming on the hilt of her baton, Hailey nodded to herself as the first ones started hitting against the doors which she had locked as well. Looking on her clock she waited for two minutes; the cries and sounds of beats against the doors not subsiding as she finally choose to walk upstairs again, giving Heinrich, who looked at her shocked, a small friendly nod. Before walking down the dormitory's first floor hallway; touching an unlocking button next to each door, various boys and girls of her age falling down and onto the floor as the door they just pounded against opened all of a sudden.

With an amused look she noticed the angry glares…of completely soaked Progena, whose hair were clinging to their faces and their clothes, which were wet to the last thread.

With faint surprise she saw one of them, John, if she remembered correctly bellowing an angry yell as he charged at her.

Yes, John May, parents were Mercs and grew up on Omega…a bully.

With a fluent movement, speaking of the countless hours Sister Marie had wrought her through hand to hand and close combat drill, she had her baton out and only had to step slightly to the side to let him run into the head of it, which started to dance with electricity, promptly finding its closest way towards the wet boy.

Collapsing on the floor as the energy unloaded into him, non-lethal but not harmless, John wriggled on the floor in pain as his limbs flayed around without purpose, his face contorting to a mask of pain as his cries filled the hallway.

Looking up from the fool, who was now sobbing in a foetal position, Hailey noticed the silence which had enveloped the hallways, fearful eyes looking at her.

"I believe you are getting late for breakfast.", she simply told the white faced onlookers, nodding her head approvingly as they scrambled back into their rooms and the sound of lockers opening and grumbling children donning on their uniforms could be heard.

Her gaze shifting back to the whimpering mess in the middle of the floor, she strode towards his room pushing the door open, not minding the three boys in various stages of undress as she pointed at two of them:

"Adam, Tom, get this Emperor Forsaken fool out of the way, it's your responsibility to get him to breakfast and hold him upright at the presentation understood?"

The two boys, both taller than her nodded quickly their eyes drawn to the still activated baton in her hand, which sparked menacingly from time to time.

Hailey's eyes narrowed as she heard silent laughter from behind those two, stepping forward and pushing those two out of her way she pointed her glare at Michael, who was the fourth Progena living in the shared room.

"You find this funny Michael? As this is so amusing to you, you are going to get yourself a bucket and a mop.", Hailey said with a pointed glare, before turning around, only to stop at the threshold of the room as Michael looked at her flabbergasted: "Why?"

With a smile, which bore no amusement or other happy thoughts she pointed at John who was still convulsing on the ground, his pants getting wet and his throat gasping raspy for breath:

"I might have accidently…", her tone showed it was certainly not accidently; "…shocked poor John with enough electricity to make his muscles uncontrollable for some time…both those on top and at the bottom of him, so get ready to wash the mess away."

Giving him a friendly nod, or at least something that looked like this, she stepped outside of the room and gave John a small kick to nudge him between the door, before striding towards the stairway and the second batch of Progena she had to get out of their wet rooms, but didn`t the missionary tell her: "It doesn´t matter if they hate you, just as long as they obey."

* * *

Finally having gathered and shooed the nearly two hundred Progena, of which most were intelligent enough not to attack her, at least as long as you don`t count the attempts of burning holes into her with glares alone, towards the dining hall, Hailey allowed herself to smile genuinely for a moment as they wandered through the corridors which connected the dormitories with the dining hall. Others in her place might have found the dark colour depressing, would have been put off by the hard and blocky architecture deployed at the inside and outside of the building and of course she knew that some of the Progena were getting nightmares from the amount of skull motifs embedded into the walls and archways of the schola, the dark rings under their eyes easily visible.

She had to do something; their continued sleeplessness was affecting the overall performance of their training squads negatively.

Finally they arrived at the entrance, the streams of Progena from both dormitory buildings merging as they stepped towards the door, then the dining hall was the central meeting point for the Progena and rally point of those in that part of the school should an alert be triggered.

Thanks to the second task which it had to serve the entrance might be called…particular, while the great portal, nearly 4 meters wide and 5 meters high, was impressive on its own, the walls around were not only made by the same bunker grade concrete as the rest of the schola but also equipped with slits to enable fire from the two rooms, which were integrated to the wall at both sides of the gate, a mobile facade covering it as long as the alarm wasn`t sounded.

Even as the Progena strode through the doors of centimetre thick armor and made their way to their tables, the dual nature of the whole building didn`t stop then while at one hand the walls and arching ceiling stayed fairly ornamented and highly archaic, with candlesticks being need to get lit in some areas to get sufficient light, elements of the architecture, columns, niches and even the highly resistant materials the tables were built from, were forming plentiful defensive covers, which would enable a defender to pick off the attackers from the door with relative ease.

Paying not much mind to the various positions, having long since memorized them good enough to jump from one cover to another in her sleep, Hailey strode towards the head table stopping just in front of it and bowing, with her hands forming the sign of the Aquila before the missionary and the two Sororitas, who give her a short nod and the Aquila in return, only the missionary looking at her with a small smile and faint mirth in her eyes:

**"I presume you know why nearly one hundred ninety eight Progena, are dripping water on the ground we sanctified to Him?"**, Flavia said, her voice getting carried over the heads of the children, the chatter ceasing from one moment to another, nearly two hundred heads turning to her direction.

**"Just a bit of help to get them out of their bed, to witness the daily prayers for breakfast missionary. There were no other problems."** the nervous drumming of her fingers against the batons hilt and the battered state of Progena John Matthews and the green colour of Michael Fletchers face not really making her claim much more believable.

Nonetheless the missionary only smiled pleasantly and gave her an inviting wave to her place at their table; it was going to be good training for her future path, one way or another.

Waiting for the girl to be seated, Flavia Sophana stood up and raised her hands to get everyone's attention, with nearly no delay everyone was silent and looking up to her, before Hailey or Sister Marie might think otherwise.

Letting her gaze shift over the whole assembly, Flavia started to talk, her calm but strong voice soon resonating and filling the whole room.

**"I know that some of you are still heathens, that you have not yet found your faith to the Emperor and that you are whimpering under the burden He has chosen us to bear.**

**But while you are still being formed into the shape He intends for all of you to reach, you need to remember a common bond between all of us: we have lost beloved ones.**

**While your lose seems fresh and grief chokes on you, the Sisters have used it to temper their own faith, before setting out to do His holy work, losing comrades and friends in the struggle against His most vile enemies, but have those two broken? They have not!**

**I'm asking you, all of you to see this as the opportunity,**

**The opportunities to do His will, the chance to bear His light and illuminate the Galaxy.**

**You will get training and you will get arms unlike any other in this part of the universe, you will endure and you will flourish, you are chosen to be Progena so act like ones!**

**Channel your grief, your hate and your determination,**

**'cause our hate is an irresistible force!**

**Ave Imperator!"**

Roughly three fourth of the Progena joined her in the last two words, the others mumbling something and looking down at their tables sullen, life in the schola was hard but they even thought they were orphans, every last one of them, they just haven't seen yet how little care the Galaxy gives to the life of men.

As the arrival of the teachers was a special event the meals which were rolled into the hall on little carts were far more varied and plentiful than the usual rations they got and which intended to make them used to scarce and bland food.

Soon lining the long dining tables and enriching the air with a sweet smell were pancakes, each Progena staring disbelieving at two thick and fresh discs, with a rich fruit sauce covering them.

**"What are you waiting for? You need to have eaten something to do your work."**

The missionary said with a smile and the Progena fell into a small cheer as they dug in, only Hailey looking up to her questioningly instead of enjoying the rare treat. Letting the handy smile drop off her lips Flavia nodded towards the other Progena:

**"They are obliged to follow their superior's orders to the letter and to death, but at the same time it's our duty to ensure their survival or that their death has the most use for Him."**,

With a faint smile surfacing she absently started to cut a small piece of the pancakes for herself, before continuing talking to Hailey;

**"Do you know the tradition of Emperor's Day? Superiors and subordinates give each other gifts, the subordinates because it's their duty and the superiors to reward the subordinates for good services rendered in the year. While I can see that there are still some edges we need to smoothen, their reaction to an belayed waking call this morning showed so much, they are coming along fine for a mere two months and they were one of the most coddled bunch of children I have ever seen, you could think their parents all were high in the Ministorum."**

Scoffing lightly, as the thought of someone fainting from seeing a bit of blood in their first close combat drill was just ridiculous and she couldn't imagine a more stark contrast to the youth of Cadia or Emperor forbid: Catachan, Flavia turned towards her pancakes.

She had made sure to send the girl to the stables for some days, the chicken they had bought needed some extra care and after getting a knife and crying some hours the girl was even able to butcher the birds without fainting; clearly a coddled simulant.

Chewing slowly on the sweet dough she looked towards the young Hailey, she was coming along quite nicely; taking the Imperial Creed like a thirsty wander in a desert while displaying a ruthless streak for punishments and efficiency if needed like this morning.

_"Even though"_, the missionary mused as she reached for her glass, _"…maybe it was a bit too mild, only one of them learned something thanks to the baton….maybe letting them fast as punishment would have been more fitting…"_

Leaning back into her chair she watched the future to be Progena eating and chattering without any care, for the moment.

_"And the literature the Alliance has sent me is just of no use: Trust building activities? Anti-authorial education methods? I have no idea how this pocket empire is even able of maintaining itself if their children aren't taught the importance of duty and sacrifice for their race. Even the most down trodden Hive gangsters will have once heard the Imperial Creed and I can say truthfully that it was one of the most inspiring sights in all my years as missionary when hundreds of gangsters lead by their local confessor bolstered the lines of Arbites when the Hive world Mideas VII was threatened to be overrun by the minions of chaos."_

A small cry and laughter stopped the last moments of her reminiscing as some of the Progena started to throw the fruit sauce at their unfortunate neighbours or if they were very brave right over their tables and into the necks of the others.

Reaching out and pressing her hand on Hailey's shoulder, she only watched as the room started to descend into a food fight, the red fruit sauce arching through the way like mortar shells, while some just scooped them in their hands and smeared it against other's faces.

**"Missionary, I have to protest! The discipline…"**

Turning her head she stared down at Hailey coldly, who had raised her voice but now regretted it instantly as she cast her eyes down under the unwavering attention of the missionary.

**"Progena Satterfield"**, she said in an icy voice **"You will not doubt my decision even in things like this."**, her eyes went back to the field of battle, carefully watching their movements, seeing how alliances formed and fell in the blink of an eye.

Only after another few minutes she took her arm off Hailey's shoulder and gave her a pointed look, before gestures at the table and the two Sisters "I'm sure nearly none of them like Sister Marie…or you for that matter, and the action this morning should have given them quite a grudge, but look around, do you see any traces of sauce next to us?"

And indeed; as Hailey looked around she had to see that their table was unscathed while the rest of the room looked like a battlefield, at least to her, the other three women had seen more war and battlefields than any other being in this universe…expect some giant squids maybe.

But nonetheless Hailey carefully tried to make her displeasure known:

**"But missionary if we allow them things like this…"**

**"It might end in disaster."**, Flavia said with a small wave of her hand, as if it would be of no matter to her, **"…but at the same time it might be the start of a tradition. Do you know why there are multiple rooms, with only four Progena in each? Or why all rooms are spread on two floors in each of the two dormitory buildings?"**

Shaking her head lightly Hailey looked up to the missionary, waiting for the answers to the missionary's puzzling questions. With a small sigh and a bit of disappointment at her oldest student's lack of an answer Sophana replied:

**"It`s quite simple: Humans want to prove themselves in the face of others, the most noble approach would be doing the Emperor's wishes and proving your loyalty and faith to him.**

**But they are young, not yet firmly anchored to the Imperial Creed, so the best thing we can let them have is competition, not only between the occupants of a room, but also between the rooms and the rooms of one floor might compete with those on the other while both dormitories try to excel over one another…are you laughing?"**

She suddenly asked as the Progena in front of her smiled amused; her eyes tearing slightly from suppressed mirth before finally blurting out:

**"So can we win points and a House Cup? Or fly on brooms and play Quidditch?"**

**"What are you talking about?"** she muttered perplexed, not really noticing how Sister Marie and Marina stood up and started to usher the Progena either outside or to a storeroom to get some cleaning supplies.

Finally snapping out of her giggling Hailey tried to reform her impassive mask but still had to smirk **"It`s just….a book from my Grandma was about a fictional wizard called "Harry Potter" who went to Hogwarts, school for Witchcraft and Wizardry or something…anyway: they also had these strange competition between their four houses, letting the students earn points over the course of the year before finally counting them at the end and giving the house with the most points a cup as prize for the year."**

Hailey might have continued telling more and more of the book, real paper things, she once found in her Grandmas attic but she heard the sound of tortured wood and looked down, seeing the missionary clenching her hand around the chairs wood, her voice being slow and low as she stared down at Hailey: **"Witchcraft?"**

Nodding quickly and fearfully Progena Satterfield tried to get away from the unflinching glare of the missionaries eyes, **"Yes but….it`s…only fiction…there`s nothing like those…psykers you told us about…magic springs purely from creative human minds!"**

**"Only a small mind is a tidy mind."** Flavia gnarled slowly, her eyes boring down into Hailey **"Is there other such….fiction?"** She drawled dangerously.

**"Mhhh….there are thousands of books with…magic….or aliens…for that matter…."** the Progena tries to say carefully.

Closing her eyes with a heartfelt sigh Flavia nodded to herself **"I see…Hailey?"**

**"Yes?"** came the timid reply.

**"You will talk about this books to Sister Marina, you will help her in cleansing our data from all this pro-psyker propaganda."**, Flavia said coldly as she stood up, her robe streaming behind her as she strode out of the doors, clenching her teeth in frustration, it seemed like a miracle this pocket humanity had even survived so long, fiction about psykers? And then positive stories too? This was madness but at the same time…how could they have survived if not for the Emperor's grace?

* * *

**[Cyrene Spaceport]**

* * *

The landing was without complications and Lenostia D'roneus was enjoying herself quite fine on the expense of the history teacher; who would have guessed humans can become such an interesting shades of green?

Checking her armatures a last time she stood up and opened the door to the passenger apartment: "Ladies and Gentlemen; we have arrived on Cyrene just in time, our landing permissions were received without problem and a transport car is waiting for us."

With a smile she holstered her pistol, silently laughing at the appalled expressions on the math and biology teacher's faces, no idea why Councillor Anderson sent a group fresh from earth.

"Officer D'roneus?" the silent whimper of the history teacher called out.

Turning around she couldn't help but feel a bit of pity for him, he was what one could call lanky, thin as a wire and tall like a bean, with a pair of big jug ears and a face showing the tiniest bit of insecurity right away.

"Yes Mr. Anderson?" she asked in her most calm voice,

At one hand he was quite the most polite person she had met so far, if you ignored some Hanar, and on the other hand he was Councillors Andersons Nephew so it most likely was a good idea to be as nice to him as possible.

"It's just we….mhh…I am asking if you are expecting trouble, if you are taking your pistol with you…" he said slowly throwing small glances at the faces of his four colleagues over his shoulder.

Laughing warmly for all of them to see, Lenostia reached out and put her hand on his shoulder, her smile widening a little as she saw the blush working itself on the young man's cheeks.

"It's only standard procedure and you shouldn't be worried, Cyrene is a trade hub, it's got some mercs and thieves here and there but it's one of the safer places outside of Council space, with a well working police force too."

Saying the last words a bit louder for the benefit of the other teachers and noting them relaxing ever so slightly, Lenostia moved towards the shuttle's door, opening it and gesturing outside into the spaceport's interior: "After you."

Nodding friendlily towards a group of Port worker who were taking their luggage, Lenostia watched her passengers disembark, Mr Grimlay, the physics and chemistry teacher helping Mrs. Baker the Math teacher out of the shuttle. Then while Mr Anderson was at the beginning of his life with mere twenty-six years Mrs Baker was already far in it with her fifty-nine years and slowly greying hair.

"They live such short lives…" it involuntary came from her lips. For a maiden of her two hundred and sixteen years it was only a fraction of all her time, with fifty-nine she wasn't even considered fully adult by those around her yet.

While Mr. Durand, biology and P.E., was talking with Mrs. Maier, Geography and English, Lenostia was walking towards the cab driver already waiting for them.

Said driver was a burly man, wearing one of the millions grey working suits which were so popular on the colonies and smoking a short glomming cigarette, smoke raising in curly grey clouds from it.

"You have arrived?" he asked in a bored tone as if he wouldn't have been able to see the shuttle landing with his own eyes.

"Obviously, so if we could get into your car? We are being expected." D'roneus said flatly eyeing the man with growing distaste after only a brief conversation…with not more than two sentences needed to form an opinion.

Slowly as he would was overcoming a great obstruction just to please her, he turned around and staggered towards the car, his belly rocking with each step.

Closing her eyes with a long tortured sigh she waves the teachers towards the car and opened the doors letting them slip in.

The car was a surprise, from the drivers behaviour she didn't expect much, she certainly had expected less, but taking a look around she had to admit that it was not only clean but also quite comfy, the thick padding of the seat letting her sink into it with a content smile, as she closed her eyes after the long flight, just a bit of….

"So you are visiting this bunch of nut nuns?" the deep voice of the driver cut into the her moment of peace and she frowned at his tone:

"I'm accompanying the teachers to their new work place and I'm sure it's not very well mannered to call someone a "religious nut"."

The driver only gave her a grunt and shrugged:

"They have to be nuts, their new dome is big enough for multiple football fields, the last time something like this was built on Cyrene was when a rich company decided to mine on the eastern side and now they throw that much money out just to build a church? And a terribly ugly one as well, reminds me of these dark things below Paris, you know Notre Dame?"

Before Lenostia could reply to that Mr. Anderson had leaned towards the driver,

giving a small shrug and a smile:

"So they build more traditional? That isn't that uncommon many religious groups try to return to traditional virtues in one way or another, if it's only architec-"

"It's not only architecture! Do you know those dark necropolises below Paris? That's what they build on the surface, skulls and bones everywhere and ugly as hell gargoyles staring down at you wherever you go! They must be nuts, otherwise they wouldn't have built a church which scares everyone away from visiting it!"

The driver shouted back, his hands clenching around the steering wheel dangerously.

Trying to defuse the situation Lenostia calmed pointed out that:

"It surely is some sort of cultural misunderstanding, the Council…"

"Tell someone who cares about your Council! I left council space because I think they are idiots who can't even find their own asses with both hands and I'm right! They let these creepy weirdoes build an orphanage/school thing for children! WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD GIVE THEM CHILDREN?"

He shouted, the brakes squealing as they were pressed down the car coming to halt, its occupants getting thrown around wildly, their head hitting walls and padding's indiscriminately, as the loud voice of the driver wrenches itself in their heads:

"We are here now out of my car!"

For a moment Lenostia was surprised by the hostility in his voice but then she followed his glance, before them was a gate, the connection between the schola and the rest of Cyrene's domes, but it wasn't one of the graceful holographically locked ones she knew.

It was large, at least eight by eight meters: large enough to let two or three cars pass next to one another, but it weren't the proportions, she had seen bigger gates.

The gate was…massive, it's dull black colour depressing if compared to the light white and grey behind of the rest of Cyrene's halls, it's armoured shell seeming like the gate to a krogan heaven and the large two headed bird of prey staring at her with his golden head and white open talons making her, a Asari with centuries of life, feeling small and like a mouse.

Shivering slightly she turned to the sides and saw that her human companions weren't taking it much better, Anderson even just standing there with his mouth wide open.

"Officer D'roneus….officer D'roneus...** filthy xeno!**" an annoyed voice called out and broke the group out of their stupor.

Standing next to the gate was the young Satterfield Lenostia still remembered; only now wearing a heavy great coat and a blue sash additionally to her school uniform.

Walking towards her with a smile, Lenostia opened her arms to pull the girl into a hug:

"Hailey! It's nice to see you how are you-"

An extended hand stopped her, the young scowling lightly while shoving the officer away, before nodding curtly at the teachers;

"If you would follow me please, everyone is waiting for you.", she said with a short clipped voice and turned on the spot, the heels of her boots clicking on the metal floor ominously as she walked towards the heavy gate, the loud creaking of half exposed cogs on both sides of the gate was being heard as it slowly rose into the ceiling opening the way into a gloomy passage.

"Are you coming, or not?" their…guide's? Call came and they scrambled forward, the teachers trying to stay close to the C-Sec officer as they walked through the dark hallway, their every step echoing in it. The only light being…

"Are those braziers?", Mrs. Bakers called out as they walked past one of the bronze contraptions, orange and red flames licking and smouldering in their basin, the hot air giving the cloth banners above them a soft swing, letting the ever present Aquila, this time in silver on red ground, move as if it was flying.

"Yes.", came the reply of Hailey, hitting the hammer on the nail with her short answer.

Staring at the young face in the shine of the flames Lenostia became slowly worried, it was hard to be believe this wasn't the same child but her features seemed sharper, her muscles more toned and small scars and scratches were visible on her cheeks.

She was a far cry from the lively young girl on the citadel, who always laughed and asked questions, maybe there was something on the things the driver told them?

"Say…what's that on your side?", Mr Grimlay suddenly asked, trying to break the awkward silence the teachers were in, their first meeting with one of their new charges being quite…different, judging from her clothing she might be some sort of military or history fan but they got told the school was using a school uniform…

"A shock baton."

"A shock baton? Why are you carrying something like that?!" Mrs. Bakers screeched and looked at the other teachers, "A child shouldn't carry something like…"

"Your worries are unneeded; I'm the schola's sole discipline mistress: I know what I`m doing.", Hailey replied without showing any other emotion as they walked towards the second gate, but the teachers weren't going to be silenced by a child, so Mr Grimlay tried again:

"But you have to see that that's nothing you should wear in a school, you could hurt others!", from the things they had expected non was Hailey snorting before laughing silently to herself as she shrugged and continued walking.

Being ignored by a future student wasn't something Mrs Bakers and Mr Grimlay were going to just endure, so they quickly walked up next to Hailey:

"Young girl! After meeting the headmistress we are all going to her office with you, it can't be that she's allowing a student to carry something akin to a weapon in all openness! Not to forget this ridiculous coat, you should immediately change into your uniform when we arrive, it just can't be that you…"

Any other words were silenced as Hailey stepped up to a small panel, clicking a couple of buttons without paying the outrage of her future teachers any heed as she stepped back and turned to them with a bored expression on her face:

"We have arrived."

Slowly the loud noise of machinery came to life again, the heavy steel plate which formed the gate moving, it's Aquila rising as bright daylight filtered into the dark passage, the teachers and the officer shielding their eyes as the interior of the Cyrene's newest dome was revealed:

Black, steel, Grey, Concrete, high archways, tall but thin windows, spiked rooftops and grinning gargoyles showing their terrible grimaces.

And grass, lots of grass, trees, large patches of green over loomed by the monstrosity some called school in their ignorance, but each schola is a fortress;

An unyielding and unconquerable castle of the Emperor's faithful, a place where generation after generation learns to live and die in His name.

To fight, endure and sacrifice for Him and the survival of humanity.

But the small group stepping on the ground holy to Him didn't know this, but they felt it.

Holding their breath, wide eyes and trembling they took steps forward as the Progena with the blue sash gave them a small shove, a smile gracing her lips for the first time as she stepped to the side and fell into the place left open for her.

Crossing her arms behind her back, clicking her heels at another as she stood at attention she fit into the rows, two rows on each side of the street leading to the gate which led into the interior of the church.

Two hundred Progena standing rigidly at parade readiness, their eyes unflinchingly staring forward, their features set and their body arms crossed, they lined the street, silent and unnerving.

What was this?

Weren't they just children? Shouldn't they be chatting with each other? Making fun of silly things and laugh at such occasions? Running around and bringing chaos into any try to get them into line?

They just shouldn't behave like this; children never did, staying in silence, without the least bit of murmur.

Their teachers were fidgeting nervously as they walked through the silent lines, each of them slowly starting to hurry their steps towards the tall portal which led into the building, each step getting farther away from this weirdness, each step bringing them closer to the only thing they wanted to reach right now.

Then in front of the door was an expression, a true expression of a feeling, in this sea of passive masks there was one smile that lured them to it like moths to the flame.

Bearing this mask was none other than Missionary Flavia Sophana of the Missionarus Galaxia; who had raised her arms wide to welcome them, her amusement plain in every sight as she glances at the Sisters, who stood next to her.

Taking a deep breath she let her eyes glance over the assembled rows of the Progena, two months, miserable two months and she had them formed so far, before letting her voice raise into the air and echo over the grey clad rows and before she finished her words were thundering from two hundred throats, the teachers and the xeno flinching under the Volume and the conviction which shone from a hundred faces:

**We shall carry our word.**

**We will correct and unify**

**Hail the Emperor!**

* * *

**To my readers: in hope it will stay this way and not sneakily reformat itself like chapter 5; or loosing all bolt letters again...and again**

* * *

Kinunatzs: There will be a time skip in chapter 8 I think, or chapter 8 will be the highlights from the two years between ME 2 and ME 3. And not only for you but for all who want such things: FOR THE LOVE OF THE EMPEROR! HOW! THERES NO MECHANICUS!

DeusImperator: you are welcome

Guest: Do note please that there is no "Low Gothic", Low gothic is the whole spectrum of languages that evolved from High Gothic, which is the universal language of the Imperiums Elite, their lingua franca.

Lovin it: Indeed ^^

Commissar Critical: it will take time, but in the end the Emperors will, will be done.

BlackKnight92: Again: who knows?

Jouanit: Thanks

SpecH82: as said above: in 1-2 chapters

Douchiesnacks: Just started with university so it will either be more quickly or slower with writing

Lord Sadacchus: "Whips my friend? I'm sure such rumors are without any ground...but we will make a excursion with the troubling students, I hope it will have a moderating influence...yes?...yes: Sister Marie will accompany them...you know seeing the world...I head Omega is a nice place."

i like cheese: I wouldn't call it incompetence, and it will get harder for our missionaries but right now they landed in a period where the council is busy with the first attack on the citadel and has to calm the people down and hunt the last Geth outside the Veil, so basically they are just to busy to pay much attention to three harmless clerics


	6. Accident-prone

By the Emperor….they weren't much.

But what had she expected? The humans of this pocket empire seemed to be a chain of oddity, softness, incompetence, disappointment and even heresy.

Their souls, or at least most of them, weren't tainted beyond salvation yet and as the Progena showed they could even find their way back to His teachings.

So why was she automatically comparing her new scolastici to those of the schola she had visited once before? It could only be a disappointment.

Mr Antonio Grimlay had the looks of an early greyed servant from a hive world's noble household, always wearing what seemed to amount to formal clothing in this part of the galaxy, standing slightly taller than her with 6'3 feet he always seemed neat and freshly ironed as if one could fold him and store him inside a cabinet till there would be use of him.

But from what he had told her in the few minutes they were already sitting in what the Mr Grayson junior had dubbed a staff lounge, he seemed to field the knowledge of a very basic tech priest or a very educated forge world worker.

In contrast Mrs Sarah Baker pretty much looked like she had expected, a bean counter and pencil pusher who never got near any real work and used her whole life to create herself a neatly ordered world from numbers, perfect material for an Administratum drone if she would slim down a bit. With her 5'6 feet and signs of a quite comfortable life till now, she seemed much like a big fat ball…not to dissimilar from some Administratum Adepts.

The only one halfway passable seemed to be Mr Eric Durand, Physical Education seemed to be his speciality and with slight approval Flavia could watch him and Sister Marie exchanging training plans and their thoughts about the most likely outcomes of most exercises, only the occasional wince or frown on his face showing his displeasure with some of them.

The missionary sighed, something she also had ample opportunity to train, even if Mr Durand seemed quite impressive and in his prime with his 6'2 feet and fairly well toned muscles he seemed far too soft in spirit for this kind of job, she doubted he could ever come closer to a true drill abbot than being a mere shadow.

Miss Janette Maier was quite the most useless of the bunch, everything regarding Geography and English as they called their native language, an obscure branch of Gothic for sure, even if not even Sister Marina could find the connection, would be taught to them by the Sisters.

As long as they could read military maps and read and write the holy scriptures of the Ministorum to have orientation in worldly and divine matters they knew enough.

If possible she should try to get Janette into a small training program with 25 years she would still be quite malleable enough to regret and atone for her life before hearing the truth of the Imperial Creed would fill her with new purpose.

The truly intriguing thing was Mr Tobias Anderson, in his part: Nephew of Lord Councillor Anderson and scholar of the noble human history and theories on political systems.

This pretty much lead to him idolizing Sister Marina after the first few minutes of talking, as nothing can top the Imperium's history or experience with political systems which were tried and discarded again and again on more than a million worlds and the Sisters of the Ordo Dialogous were quite adept at translating and remembering texts, something one might easily forget.

In a way she had a slight suspicion, even a cursory glance wouldn't hide the fact he was thin as a wire while being taller than everyone around him with his 6'4 feet and not only the jug ears but also the slightly confused and sometimes scared expression on his face reminded her of some young nobles she had meet on her travels.

And why would one send their likes to a schola? Of course because their family was worried about their future career….and mere survival in the intrigue filled pits one called courts and governments on some worlds.

It was quite a good feeling to know that even outside of the Imperium a local dignitary was able to discern a scholas worth so quickly and as Lord Councillor Anderson had given his nephew to them she wouldn't want to disappoint him.

Young Anderson wouldn't be the first relative of a noble to find refuge in the Ecclesiarchy and she honestly had needed someone to carry out the small sermons and such for her anyway, not that watching the Progena light the candles would be something for her to do either, a young confessor to groom would be a nice thing.

"Really Marie, you imported horses from Earth?"

Clenching her teeth slightly the missionary glanced to the side,

seeing the blue skinned xeno witch sitting between humans, sitting on the ground of her schola was worse enough, but seeing the way she reached out to brush against Sister Marie's hand would make everyone sick, or at least it should have: the new scolastici were another disappointment in that regard Mrs Baker only giggling and murmuring something about young love, ignoring the fact that the xeno was most likely five times older than her.

The only one who barely showed any reaction was Mr Grimlay who muttered something about it not being appropriate in public, while the youngest two teachers just blushed a little and looked to the side as the asari obviously tried to swoon the Sister.

A xeno trying to romantically endear a member of the Adeptus Sororitas?

Hopefully she was the only one seeing said Sisters hand creeping towards her melta, the tenseness of her body only slowly seeping into her face which was stuck halfway between a shy mask and a furious grimace which spoke of retribution.

Coughing lightly to gather everyone's attention, sadly preventing the xeno's rightful end for the time being, the missionary stood up and gave the scolastici a small nod as greeting.

"I'm delighted to greet you today esteemed scolastici and I can say I'm thankful Lord Councillor Anderson has chosen you five to help us in our most noble endeavour. With your timely arrival and the finished construction on the east wing of the schola, you should be able to start teaching the Progena from this moment on, Sister Marina might help you in forming a time table to use.", Flavia says shortly as she looks in the face of each teacher,

"Progena Satterfield will show you to your rooms, she has taken the liberty to gather some of her comrades to get your baggage into your rooms, if you need anything or have any problems, be it from being unable to find your way or more….disciplinary ones, she will be the one you should ask."

Tilting her head slightly she nodded towards the Progena with the blue sash around her waist, standing relaxed at the door, her hands behind her great coat and a cruel smile on her lips which unnerved the teachers/scolastici greatly on such a young face.

Finally finding the courage to say something Mr. Grimlay coughed lightly before looking around to see that he got everyone's attention:

"I'm sure I can talk for all of us if I say that your school…"

Frowning lightly the missionary interjects "Schola Mr. Grimley, my institution isn't the same as some education institute for hive youths."

"…that your schola is making quite the….impression on each of us.", he said lightly as one or two of his colleagues shuddered lightly; the leering gargoyles being just to strange and foreign to people having lived between sky scrapers of glass and steel for their whole life.

"Calling it a necropolis might have been too nice for it.", Mrs Baker whispered under her breath, giving Miss Maier a small glance hoping for some encouragement, only to flinch as the icy tone of Sister Marina who sat next to her and stopped talking to Tobias for a moment:

"Death serves the Emperor, it shows what each of his servants has to accept eagerly if it serves his will and prevents the death of all mankind."

The impassionate tone in which the words were delivered didn't blunt the fierce determination in the eyes of the black-haired Sister as she stared the pudgy old teacher down who only paled lightly before sinking back into her chair.

"…I…just mean….the ornaments….with the skulls….are a bit…depressing…"

The, at first glance, older women stammered as she tried to sink back into the staff lounge's chair, small drops forming on her forehead as she stared into those cold brown eyes, which promised that no further inquiries would be…needed.

"It strikes awe and it strikes fear, two emotions all Emperor loving humans should be well acquainted to from the moment of their birth."

The Sister said curtly as she turned around to the slightly put off history teacher, starting to shift into an explanation of the benefits of a ruling aristocracy if managed correctly by an oversight organization which takes actions if needed….. like contacting one of the Assassinorum temples.

Turning her head lightly to the side, the missionary took her focus off Mr. Grimlay who has taken the route of getting in his headmistress graces by telling the usual flatteries she had already heard on one occasion or another:

The man just couldn't compare with a few millennia of inbreed ass kissing, some nobles had evolved, doing it in ways which didn't seem like outright flattery at first sometimes even insulting before sinking their hooks into you.

Slightly bored she tried to feint interest and swivelled her bionic eye towards the Sister of the Order Sabine had found a way to slip out of the disgusting xeno's reach and was now talking with Mr. Durand who was asking her something at this moment:

"Fencing? Why not…I did some in the day, not sure if I got a bit rusty, but I can remember some warm ups and steps.", he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, while contemplating the different techniques he had to search up with his omni-tool later.

"It would be greatly useful if you could take over the fencing class, Progena Satterfield should be able to help you with the training regime, I taught her the basics for the three fencing styles one should know. With that time free I can intensify my riding lessons, they will profit quite well from it",

Sister Marie said quite pleased, before frowning terribly as a blue hand closed on her shoulder, glaring at the grin spreading on Mr. Durands lips as he leaned forward and asked:

"They? You mean the students?"

"Not only them, it`s quite some work to train our horses, only thirty of them are already giving me more than a handful of work.",

She replied, thinking about all the work it had taken to make the horses ride first through holograms of multiple xeno specimens of this sector, before making them ride against firm objects which only had xeno pictures on them.

They were just unwilling to use their hooves on those already on the floor, or to run into groupings of opponents, it was just disturbing to work with such….peaceful creatures after being used to the aggressive Imperial cavalry steeds which might even start to chew on their rider if bored and not hold in a firm leash.

"Ohhh…you can handle animals? I would love to see riding!"

As the xeno exclaimed this the missionary wondered: was she really the only one seeing the Sisters disgust and discomfort shift to an expecting nearly predatory look as she stared at the xeno and out of the window towards the stables.

Hopefully she was.

"Wouldn`t that be a lovely idea Lenostia, why don`t you accompany me to the lesson in two days? I`m sure you would like to take a look at the horses too then?"

The Sister Sabine said sweetly, staying in character in the best tradition of her Order, diving into the local costumes and culture, laying the groundwork for the missionaries, and casting this behaviour off in the manner others might change their clothes.

Smiling in the belief that she was making progress the asari nodding with a smile and carefully traced her thumb over Marie's neck, never happening to notice just how close she just came to being superheated by a handheld melta.

"I would love to."

She said with a smile, which widened ever so slightly as the blonde mirrored it in kind,

"You just don`t know how much I do~"

* * *

**A few days later~**

* * *

"The acid which is refined from the use of Nitride when cooked on the flame for 15 minutes and added with thirty gram of …",

Mr Grimlay was quite pleased with the class till now,

even though the classroom was no different from the rest of the building the cackling skulls and dark ornaments were mostly…behind him, so for the first time of his life he was enjoying a totally silent class, all of the students….or Progena as the headmistress insisted on, were attentive, sitting straight in their chairs and with an unwavering if slightly nervous look pointed at him and his class.

"As you can see here with my experimental construction you will see, that…"

His explanation was rudely interrupted as a pained scream echoed through the courtyard, which is surrounded by the four building of the educational buildings in which the class was taking place.

Once again Mr. Grimlay was pleasantly surprised by the reaction of the Progena: none.

while other children might have run to the windows and gawked at whatever was going on without any care for their teacher, these ones were sitting upright in their chairs, the presence of a boy with a yellow sash around his waist and some kind of armored grey shoulder plate on his right shoulder seemed to be helping with this too.

Giving him, Heinrich Voigt if he remembered right, a small nod, Mr Grimlay stood up and walked towards the window, which was reminding him of a castle each time he stepped to it:

Bulletproof as he had heard, the tall gothic window was built with filigreed masonry around it, which ended in an arch with delicate ornaments.

Looking down at the courtyard which also served as the field for the PE class his eyes widened:

Mr Durand, 6`2 feet tall and shaped by a life of athletics was convulsing on the floor with his eyes wide open and half rasped screams echoing through the air, while his class only watched without any reaction, across from their teacher standing, Satterfield with some sort of sword or box with handle in her hands and her stance relaxed but wary.

* * *

**A few minutes earlier:**

* * *

"Good, is everyone here?"

Durand said as his gaze swept over the courtyard, a class of twenty standing in the shadow of the buildings around them, orderly in two rows with the blue sashed girl standing next to them and eyeing their neat lines sharply.

Seeing her give him a sharp nod he smiled, trying to brighten the mood up a bit:

"Have to say this is my first class which is fully present at the start of a lesson."

As no reaction followed he sighed and tried to look every one of them in the eyes, only to be met with expressionless gazes directed back at him, only one or two of them smiling slightly or giving away any other reaction.

"As you might have noticed: I`m your new PE teacher and while I usually tend to stick more to the….common sports in my classes, Sister Marie has informed me you were dabbling a bit into fencing with the three styles one needs, so? Did you start with the foil before going to sword and maybe even sabre?"

Looking into the round with an infectious, or at least one that usually was, smile he waited for an answer, but as none of them made a move to say something he turned and looked at the strange girl;

"Satterfield?"

Immediately the girl with her greatcoat looked up to him; "Yes?" Her tone flat and not giving any of her thoughts away.

"I was asking, Satterfield, which swords you were already using in this?"

"Swords, Mr Durand?" She asked back with a small smile.

"The only sword we learned how to wield was the sabre, otherwise we learned fencing with fixed bayonets and knife fighting combined with hand to hand combat."

"What?" Was the only thing Mr. Durand gasped as he stared at the girl who said it to him as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

"But in regard to sabres we only went through chopping moves mostly, the rare thrusts were more of a small diversion from the usual routine."

She said with her fingertips drumming along the hilt of her baton.

"I see…" he really did not, "…maybe we could have a small spar and see how far you progressed?" he muttered nearly on autopilot as he wondered if the cabdriver was right and they were really nuts.

Giving a small affirmative nod, Hailey turned around and gestures to the two Progena at the most left of the lines, who both quickly lowered their heads and thumbed their fists against their chest in a salute before turning on the heels and disappearing into the storage building.

Returning a few moments later each of them was carrying a heavy bundle on the backs, steel handles reflecting the moon's sun light, as they came to a halt and carefully placed the bundles on the floor before Satterfield, opening them to expose…

"God…this….you call these monstrosities sabres? Those are clubs!"

With disbelief he looked at the…sabres… the students had brought to him:

They were boxy.

No: They were boxes. Maybe 36 inches long, with at least 10 inches being the handle, which was not only held in a light golden tone but seemed to emit the same sturdy aura as the building around them: indestructible and added with a thick guard which reached out from just above the swords pommel in a rectangular angle before doing it again two times, finally joining the swords main body just below the "blade", wide enough to cover the front of all four fingers below it.

The association with a club didn`t come from nothing:

Where fencing sabres had a flat blade which came together at the tip of the sword, keeping it a thrust weapon, these things didn`t have so much of a blade.

In its stead was a metal box, as wide as three fingers and 25 inches long at least,

Mr Durand couldn`t quite understand how this should work out as a training weapon: how should children be able to hold it, as it seemed to be purely made out of heavy steel and how should one land hits against each other without breaking the bone beneath the area?

As if to answer his question Satterfield bend down and picked one up, her arm straining lightly but to his surprise she was able to wield it with one arm. Mirroring her, albeit a bit reluctant, he closed his grip around the handle and lifted the "sabre" from the ground.

While it wasn`t as taxing as he feared it still threw him off a bit by the way it was totally incomparable to a normal fencing sabre.

Turning it in his hands he took a look at the sabres blade, or rather the lack thereof,

then while the back of the weapon was just boxy and rectangular it`s lower side seemed to narrow down from the back but instead of coming together into a blade, there was only at least one finger wide opening that went from the tip of the back's end over the frontal side of the box and then back to the guard.

Only as Hailey reached down again, taking a rectangle hard rubber piece and setting it into the empty part of the sword, giving it a clumsy edge for training, even if a hit with the uncovered steel sides must still hurt like hell and at minimum leave some bruises.

Taking an identical piece of rubber he put it into the gap thought for it.

With the hard rubber firmly in its place, Durand took a few steps back.

Lowering his posture, by going down with his knees, he put his left hand on his left side and out of the way as he turned it to face away from Hailey, while his right hand struggled for a moment to get his heavy sabre (of sorts) in a line with his outstretched arm, pointed at the Progena. Giving her a little smile he said:

"If you would get into position please, Ms. Satterfield."

Frowning as if having bitten into a sour fruit Hailey replied:

"Progena Satterfield, Mr Durand."

After correcting him she went into a similar low crouch, but with the sabre not pointed straight at him.

Instead she had it slightly pointed downwards and the tip more towards the left.

Smiling lightly and in the belief the Situation was regaining the regular structure of a class again Mr Durand took a step forward, shifting into an attack lunge with the aim to thrust the heavy tip against her chest.

Taking a step back in mocking slowness, Hailey stepped past his range without problems before pressing forward, not using any time with thrusting moves, she simply swung her blade upwards, as if to cut though his chest, aimed for his hips.

Moving backwards from his formerly extended position, the teacher brought his sword down as he tried to pull his leg and hip away from the Hailey and hard rubber met on hard rubber with a dull thud, but with the weight along, guided by the strength Hailey had built up over the past few months, Mr. Durand was in for a bad surprise as a sharp pain lanced through his wrist for a few moments as the two club like weapons brought their weight to bear on both:

Their wielders and their opponents.

It only took moments for Hailey to pull her training sword away and raise it again, going for another slash while her teacher was trying to adapt to a way of slashing with the heavy training weapons.

But until her slash came, he was already moving backwards, going for his own hit, trying to capitalize on the longer range his height was giving him over the young girl.

Seeing the sword coming towards her, Hailey threw herself forward raising her own sword to block with its reinforced back before struggling to close in even further, as their weapons parted again and she quickly slashed for her teacher's abdomen, getting rewarded by a faint grunt and a wince as the hard rubber hit his muscles.

"Ahh..good that we are using rubber blades at least…",

Mr Durand muttered as his free hand covered his belly, looking down he could only frown as he thought about it turning blue in some moment, as he looked up he could raise his sword just in time to deflect a hit aimed at his right shoulder .

"What the…!" he cried out in surprise as his blade met Hailey's who had used the distraction to try getting another hit home.

"You didn't yield…" she said simply as she looked at him.

"You damn…" he muttered under his breath as he tried to think back to the more in depth fencing classes he had once, not having prepared for real, thinking he wouldn't need it….at least he thought so till now.

Looking at the other students who were watching their sparring attentively he raised his sword into an fencing position once again, if he would show off his own progress they might take him more seriously in the rest of the class and as if a little girl, who is more than two heads shorter than him, could take him on!

Feinting an attack on her right arm he changed the line of his sword in the last moment coming down crushingly on her right thigh, her lips thinning ever so slightly as the only sign of the pain which made one or two children in the lines wince.

Giving her a mocking grin he brought the sabre up for a salute as it now stood one to one.

From this moment on the spar seemed to change, while both sides had only tested each other until now they were trying to do their best now: with Hailey starting to use the tricks Sister Marie had shown her with only limited success on Mr Durand, who seemed to shrug most of the attacks, which had to change direction at least once to come through his blocks, just off.

The other way around wasn't really Satterfield's strength;

following the hit on her now throbbing thigh a couple of light glances hit arms and shoulders, either by leading her into traps with feints or just by overpowering her or using his longer reach to his own advantage.

But the most successful attacks was one against her sides and another on her left shoulder, which started to hurt painfully as she started to breath more heavily, her younger and less disciplined body unable to take as much punishment as her teacher,

even her great coat could only dampen so much and now she was breathing heavily with her hair sticking to her head wet from sweat.

"Are you giving up now?"

The teachers taunt came as he rested his swords tip on the floor for a moment, his face glowing in excitement as he slowly got into one of his less present, but now very enjoyable sports, even if he just had to buy new training swords.

Taxed eyes looked up to him from underneath a peaked cap,

the silver skull cackling up at him as it suddenly lurched forward.

Using his open posture she rushed forward with something close to her last breath, not even stopping as he desperately tried to bring his sword up.

Before she barrelled against the larger body both of her hands were closed around the grip of the sword with its tip pointed upwards and as she ran against her teacher and fell to the ground with him she heard a sick pop and a muffled scream.

Rolling back on her feet she took two steps back to regain distance with her sword still ready and firmly in both hands.

But as she took a good look at her teacher her hands started to tremble:

Lying on the floor Mr Durand was reaching for his throat with half raw cries as he coughed and gasped for air, his body trembling and convulsing as he fought for another shallow breath after the next, his sword long forgotten on the floor on his side.

And as quickly as a fire gun, Hailey's face paled into a sick white with a slight green tint as she looked at her comrades, who only needed a small nod from her for two of them to run into the building to get a stretcher and another two running to call the ambulance and the headmistress.

Seeing that everything was done Hailey looked back at the screaming form of her teacher, the heavy sword falling out of her hands and landing on the hard floor as she fainted and fell backwards into blessed darkness.

* * *

Looking at the two unmoving forms Mr Grimlay was just going to run down to help as he saw two robbed figures running down on the field: both of the sisters.

Gulping slightly he just hoped the best for both of them as he turned back to his class, which was still sitting silently, only some students comparing notes under the watchful eyes of Heinrich.

Coughing lightly to get their attention and his mind off the scene he had just seen,

He walked back to his table, taking out a small black box, fitting perfectly on his palm, with heavy golden Aquilas adorning it on all six sites.

"Good…good….as for our next project…"

With a delighted smile he opened the box exposing a polished crystal for the class, some of the students leaning forward to get a better look on it.

"As you can see: this is a Crystal. The headmistress has already promised us the needed chemicals and microscopes to breed them and afterwards we will give you the chance to improve your handwork with the finished touch of the polishing."

Giving the class an eager expression at the project, so generously supported, he took the Crystal carefully from the box:

"We will be given enough materials that each one of you will be able to make three of them!"

* * *

**"I'm disappointed Hailey."**

Flavia said slowly as she looked on the girl in front of her desk, who seemed to sink further into her great coat with each passing moment under the missionary's eyes.

**"I'm…"** said Progena brought out unsurely as she continued to stare at her boots,

her hands still trembling whenever she thought about how she…

**"He's ok."** The missionary snapped at the Progena, slightly worried her most time intensive project was already breaking down.** "You only dislocated his Adams apple….the human throat is very flexible, it's quite risky but possible to get away without any real injury."**

The Progena only stared at her as if she was sent by the Emperor himself,

in some way he surely had them in mind in some way, her face showing great relif at the prospect of not having killed their teacher in his first fencing lesson with her.

**"Still…you nearly killed another human being Progena…as he isn't a servant of the Emperor one can see over this to a degree, but I still expect you to fast for three days and I will await you coming to the church with a new learned Hymn for Him, is that understood?"**,

Sophana said with a sigh, such fragile scolastici, really! A drill abbot wouldn't have gotten hit and even if…she would beg for him just to stand up and either beat the Progena who sent them down blue and black or give them a hearty slap on the back as praise.

**"Yes Missionary!"** Hailey called with far more life in her voice than minutes before when she was telling Flavia what had occurred in the courtyard.

Giving the Progena a small nod, the missionary's face turned into a more serious expression: **"As you seemed to have reacted so badly to what has happened…you are given a chance to help Sister Marie with following the Imperial Creed…"**,

She said, reaching down into a drawer of her table and settling a knife on the desk's surface giving the Progena a gesture to take it.

Looking at the gleaming knife and seeing her chance for even a bit of redemption today; she quickly took it and stood up, just forming the sign of the Aquila before running for the door and towards the stables.

As she hurried out of the door she nearly ran into a group of three men, who were just about to knock at the missionary's door.

If Hailey might have been more perceptive and would have looked at them she would have noticed that two of them were wearing small round caps, one in white and one in black, both men sprouting a neatly trimmed beard, while the third one was showing a small white collar and a silver crucifix hanging form his neck as pendant.

If she would have stayed behind to watch them she would have seen them respectfully greet the missionary who answered that in kind and offered all three of them a seat, before letting the conversation slip into some pleasant nothingness and answering questions about her school and chapel.

Finally the bystanders would have seen the Missionary smile an honest and quite content smile as she asked the three men, who were by now smiling back at her just as warmly:

_**"Please Brothers; tell me more about this…ecumenical church service."**_

* * *

Gasping for breath but with a fare more brighter outlook on the day Hailey arrived in the stables, smiling lightly as she patted some of the steeds, which were waiting in their boxes, until she finally spotted Sister Marie still sieged by the disgusting xeno witch.

"So…this is a saddle?" Lenostia said with a charming smile as she watched Marie continue her work with the beast…horse.

"It is." Sister Marie said strained as she put the saddle on the back of the horse, giving it a slight shove as it settled on the right place by itself.

The asari stayed silent for a few more moments, while Marie settled the saddlecloth correctly, trying the right seat some times before nodding approvingly and pulling on the belt, letting it dangle down on the side of the horse and bending downwards to pull it away from the horses legs, to prevent scaring them.

Using the sisters position the asari let her inner maid out for the first time in decades and leaned forward, pressing herself tightly against the back of the Sister…without ever guessing just how close to getting micro waved she just came.

**"…Progena….Satterfield…"**, Sister Marie pressed out between dangerously clenched teeth, as she closed the belt and quickly stood up, successfully getting the blue xeno of her back, who only giggled disturbingly human before looking at the horse, which Hailey continued to ready with bridle and halter quickly slipped on the horse, which only wheezed slightly agitated whenever the blue asari came into its view.

Finally ready, Marie forced another smile on her lips as she took the xeno hand, hiding her utter loathing behind a mask of pleasantness as her hands itched for nothing more than to use a holy flamer to deliver His cleansing fire to the abomination.

Taking Marie's hand Lenostia smiled happily, the last few days might have been a bit tense from the side of the students, but they were fresh orphans so they surely were still on processing the tragedies that struck them, so she took her happiness in the company of Marie who seemed to be a rather shy person at times and at others she was quite bold.

Smirking as she swung herself into the stirrups of the human mount, she laughed and looked down at Marie's angelic face.

Giving the xeno a warm smile, with her utmost care to hide all traces of the thrilled anticipation of anticipation she was feeling as she led the horses through the buildings doors.

She made herself a mental note to purify it later before letting a human ride it again, just butchering it wouldn't do right now.

Bending down to evade the borders of the door, Lenostia held the halter in her hands as they moved onto the large fields behind the school, which were made to look like grassy plains and nourish the horses with fresh grass. It was quite an interesting feeling to ride on an animal instead of a machine: it was warm underneath her, its muscles movements being felt through her legs as they went into a slow trot.

Smirking to herself as she led the xeno further onto the wide and open field, she looked back for a moment seeing Hailey follow the two of them in safe distance, letting go of the halter Marie smiled at the xeno as she raised them herself and made the horse go slightly faster.

It was thrilling, the way the beast reacted to her lead, feeling it work with every step, not mechanical like a car but alive…organic, just how far could she go?

She would have to try: best paid holiday ever!

Finally allowing herself a determined face Marie looked up, meeting the xeno's gaze a last time before giving the horse a slap on the behind making it surge forward into full gallop and smiling grimly as a second scream echoed in the dome of the schola on this day.

Officer D'roneus world slowed down for a few fateful moments, her eyes locking with the being of her desire of a moment as its face turned into a mask of a nightmare, her eyes shining with inner fire and losing the youthfulness she only now recognized as fake, in the same way some Matrons try to act like Maidens when trying to find someone in a bar.

As the horse underneath her surged forward she opened her lips to scream, but was pulled backwards as her saddle slipped away from under her, the belts clip having opened thanks to manipulation of the little blue sash wearing devil.

As her body was moved backwards the shock didn't let her hold on the halter fast enough and with her feet still in the stirrups she went over the side of the horse without getting the chance to be left lying.

With satisfaction Marie watched the xeno hit by realization just in the moment of her doom, her lips itching to sing prayers in His name as the first blue skinned witch of this sector was nearing to meet her end, her head hitting on the ground multiple times, scrapping over the grass and floor, blue or purple blood forming a trail intermixed with dirt and grass, until the whole of the saddle finally came off and the xeno landed on the floor, rolling a few times around her own axis, with her arms and legs hanging strangely on her body and with sick crunches whenever they were moved….it was music to Marie's ears.

Pain, there was nothing else, maybe movement, but that only became blurred after a while, her crests was bursting, at least this was how it felt like if it didn't break yet. Moving her broken and limp limbs slightly and under great agony she tried to get up, her eyelids fluttering as she looked up and saw the dome around the cursed building those without knowledge called simply school.

Suddenly a shadow came over her and she saw the underside of her mount, she wasn't angry on it, it wasn't its fault it was…

With a happy look at the hooves coated in purple blood, Sister Marie reached for her notes and made some notes about how pleasantly surprised she was with the training the horses had got: trampling everything that is either directly under them or looking not human, the holographic images of the xenos helping quite well in this regard.

The day would be perfect now, that…

**"Sister….it's still breathing!"** the voice of the Progena shattered her day dreams and made her prayer turn sour for a moment, but finishing it under her breath she turned towards the xeno she had thought dead with a scowl.

Seeing its still rising chest she could only clench her fists in suppressed zeal as she turned to the Progena and said shortly:

**"Call the ambulance…we had another accident."**

The missionary was firm in her orders that there should be no: _"Murder"_,

If you could call doing His work like this,

but she understood it was still time to wait for their plans to continue.

* * *

"Executor Chellik, what can we do for you today?" Councillor Sparatus asked the other Turian instead of greeting him, as the executor walked into the Council chambers.

"Councillors!", he said with great frustration in his voice, addressing the four most powerful individuals in the galaxy, "I only took this post because Executor Pallin was killed by the Geth assault, but while I'm head of C-Sec I have to insist of some rules to be followed: You can't just send one of my officers away without filling out the needed paperwork for it!"

Sharing a glance between each other Anderson stood up and looked at the turian:

"Executor, we knew you were fresh in office, we just needed Officer D'roneus for some days, delivering some people to a moon and taking a look for us before returning, there was no risk involved and she will surely be at her work at this time tomorrow, if you could…"

Pausing as the executor gave the equivalent of a sarcastic laugh and this to his superiors of all things! They watched him tap some buttons on his Omni-Tool for some moments and a second later all four councillors opened the files they had been send by him,

"Ohh Goddess", Tevos whispered shocked as she took a look at the pictures.

The other three blanching at the report and pictures they saw, wincing even further as they went to the x-ray pictures send too.

"Executor…no one could know such an accident might happen…" Sparatus tried first but was only stopped cold by an angry snort from the other turian.

"No one could know? What you don't know is that C-sec won't be able to handle the bills, because without an official order Officer Lenostia is skipping on work in the time this accident happened: So how should she be able to pay the hospital bills, just take a look at the x-rays and try to imagine how large the…"

"Executor…we will personally see into it, I will promise that Officer Lenostia will get the best possible treatment and that the surroundings of the accident will be…"

"COUNCILLORS!", the door was pushed open and a mixed group of C-sec and Alliance officers were running into the chamber, earning them the ire of the turian councillor whose mandibles flared up as he wanted to bite a piece out of them.

"How dare you to…"

"The SSV Normandy was destroyed near Alchera!"

"What…", a shocked silence reigned in the chamber as each Councillor tried to get over the initial shock, sure they wanted Shepard to be out of the way for some time but…

"How…how is Commander Shepard?" Anderson finally asked in a forced calm voice.

The alliance officers gulped and looked at one another uncomfortably before one finally stepped forward and said:

"From the survivors we have…news that more than twenty crew members are reported KIA….including one Commander Jane Shepard of the Alliance Navy…."

* * *

**For the readers, who hopefully write some Metro 2033 Crossovers before I give in and try to do so... :**

* * *

First of all: I'm currently quite busy with starting university and writing allot of things each day even without the fan fiction so it generally moves in the little breaks between other activities. Furthermore I tend to scribble down scenes for future chapters as soon as I get an idea...so yes...a bit unorganized and slow. Anyway, to your comments:

DeusImperator92: You are welcome and I guess its pretty self explanatory that they just can't be in the same galaxy and even universe would be...hard

Barbas Sephtis: See your comment as the reason Anderson will life and become important~

Blinded in a bolthole &amp; Martenzo: Hopefully you wont mind I'm mashing you together:

Sorry for the typhos, I'm trying but I'm not a native speaker and usually have to stick to my proofreader (DeadAdder47117, read his story, flame him for my...ehmm..his typhos (not me!)), without whom I would hopelessly be lost (native speakers faint from my uncorrected grammar!).

Regarding Gothic: You two are right, but in my mind it kinda took the place of Latin and at least in the church in the medieval ages (and at universities till the 20th century) it was the lingua franca (its also an official language in the EU, thanks to the Scandinavian countries). And here it wouldn't make sense to teach them more Low Gothic Variants, because they are kinda rushing them through anyway.

Jouaint: Thank you as always!

predatorpucker: ohh...you haven't seen a thing yet ~

Lovin it: I find it quite funny that the future of a small sub plot is build upon a slight thing which makes it impossible for them to make an Guard Unit (But will preserve Anderson!)

Emile-A239: As you might have noticed I tried to be more descriptive (rather clumsily at the start one after another). And for my part I can say that I know of real military schools mostly regarding Prussian cadet schools and the same things in France, Austria and GB. If you mean any of the "modern" military schools...lets just say I'm going with the opinion of Stephen Clark in his book "Prussia" and not comment it further.

Commissar Critical: _**The path to duty is often a stony one, made smoother by thought for others**_

Imperial-Priest-Engelbart: So it may be!

SanShine: And above was just another.

The Flippant Writer: The Missionaries might seem more independent and tolerant than their brothers and sisters, but in the end you hopefully saw that it only comes down to doing his work as best as possible.

AlphaFartOfDoom: Hopefully you will continue doing so.


	7. Merry Emperors Day

**Merry Emperors Day**

* * *

"Brothers and Sisters….Faithful!"

Stressing the last word the missionary called out with a solemn tone from the pulpit of Cyrene's sole Catholic Church in the main living dome, smiling lightly as some of the people who were nearly asleep in the last rows suddenly woke up and tried to look like they were listening the whole time.

"I`m honoured to have been invited upon this pulpit to speak to you today and as such my brothers, as the local spiritual leaders, have my thanks."

Bowing her head lightly towards the three men who had visited some weeks ago and told her their idea of a joined church service, the missionary reached out, gripping the borders of the pulpit and looking down at the gathered congregation.

"I was told how this service is a sign: a bridge between old grudges and old hostilities between the three great religions of Earth and when I look down I`m seeing followers of not only those three but dozens of splinter groups sitting together, and having found their common roots!"

Giving the words some time to settle in, watching sharply how some of the people seemed to drift off to sleep again as they heard something along these lines for the fourth time now.

"I`m sure…that all of you have heard these three times already and don`t really want to hear it once again….**neither do I!**", smiling lightly as the last three words were amplified by the vox-staff Sister Marina was holding on the side of the church, letting her words reach every last corner of it.

"The Proudness you display when you talk about the huge achievement the mere existence of this so called "ecumenical" service is so laughable!"

She called out, noting with satisfaction how some of the faces below her seemed to grow angry at the casual dismissing.

"What you call: the final peaceful peak of humanity's religious life, is** nothing!**

Your idea of what humanity might be is flawed!

You are wrong if you think that the one home world…" she stressed the world sarcastically,

"…and the few dozen colonies in what you deem council space is humanity at whole!

You are Lost!

Lost in the vastness of the universe for you have lost contact with your kin among the stars!

Lost in your way of living as you take on the Aliens way without suspicion!

How can you even dare to call yourself humanity if you do not know of mankind's empire?

If your own understanding and colonization isn`t even big enough to fill a sub-sector of Imperial space!"

Her voice amplified and filled with the fire of zeal and tempered by rhetoric was hammering against each of the gathered persons ears, their heads numb for a moment as they tried to process the worlds, slowly voices grumbling beneath the rows, some whispering hushed questions: doubting on the sane mind of the women standing above them, others asking what she meant with: empire, their voices growing ever louder until the missionary called out as they reached their peak:

"You ask what the Imperium is?

By the Emperor? Doesn`t this show how dim you are in the matters regarding the universe?"

Letting the thinly veiled insult hang in the air for a moment, Flavia quickly continued before the crows became angry:

"The **Imperium** is the **greatest empire** which ever stood in the darkness of the universe!

It is worlds numbering in the **millions**, it`s guardsmen in the **Trillions!**

The holy state created by the God-Emperor himself, leading humanity out of the great Catastrophe and the long night, which nearly extinguished mankind itself!

You are asking yourself why you have never heard of the Imperium?

You are asking yourself why you have never heard of the God-Emperor?"

She waited for some moments as the people in the crowd started to talk to one another, their heads going from one neighbour to another before finally settling back on her, even if slowly and silently more and more of the gathered stood up and hurried out of the building.

"But Brothers! Sisters! You have heard of both: **The Emperor and The Imperium!"**

She called out triumphantly raising her arms up and smiling down at her listeners, holding up three small black books.

"Here, in your own scripture!

Then what is the Emperor? **OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR!**

He has given his mortal existence for our redemption!",

with a flick of her wrist the first book adorned by a silver cross flies from the pulpit and hits the ground.

"Who`s the **Lord** your God, who brought you out of the land of slavery?

He is the God-Emperor himself, for:

There is only the Emperor

and he is **our Shield and Protector!**

As he has shown himself in here!",

she raises the book with the star on it, showing it to all the gathered

"God describes himself as the Protector and not in vain, one of the most important prayers of the Adeptus Sororitas goes as following:

**A spiritu dominatus,**

**Domine, libra nos,**

**From the lighting and the tempest,**

**Our Emperor, deliver us.**

**From plague, temptation and war,**

**Our Emperor, deliver us,**

**From the scourge of the Kraken,**

**Our Emperor, deliver us."**

With a grand gesture she let the second book drop down from the pulpit, her lips tugging upwards in a smirk as this earned her more dark looks from the crowd below, even more standing up and leaving the church.

"And you? Those who call themselves Muslims?",

she called out, leaning forward from the pulpit and her bionic eye flaring up and letting her literally flaming gaze sweep over the gathered.

"Don`t you believe in god having sent his messengers down to humanity multiple times, his message being reinterpreted multiple times?",

She asked in a tone which grew softer as she looked into the room and gave the still attentive listeners a small smile;

"In the ten thousand years since the founding of the empire He has sent us his messengers in the direst hours of need, when humanity itself was on the brink of extinction.

When doubt clouded the minds of His faithful,

His holy temples were burning under the laugher of madmen and the martyred bodies of those which entrusted their lives to him were covering the streets in the rubble of their homes:

Then He sent us His Saints and His Apostles!"

Raising her hands with the last book in them, she holds it over her head and looked down at those left in the building:

"When Mohammed wrote down the Qur`an he didn`t "just" found another religion: he had a God inspired mission of uniting all of man behind those words and if you have taken a look at your history, just as I did, you have seen **how far faith(!)** brought the nomadic tribes who gathered under the green flag of the prophet and build an empire from one corner of their known world to the other."

With a light thud the last of the three books hit the floor beneath the pulpit.

"But what is this compared to the saints of the Imperium?",

She asked in a solemn voice.

"It might appear unfair to dare this comparison…", Sophana nearly whispered into the anxious silence of the church. "…But is the factor of unfairness one that might justify silence?",

Taking a small breath her chest rose as she cried out:

**"IT DOES NOT!",**

Looking down at her audience which was either huddled together, courtesy of Sister Marinas all around sound System that assaulted their ears, or looking up to her either in curiosity or with genuine fascination which was glued to her every word.

"How could one compare a tiny dot of blue you call home to the golden jewel of the universe which is holy terra, dedicated to Him and His vision?

How could you compare the small areas and colonies you lay claim to and which are assaulted by slavers and pirates at all borders to the whole greatness which is the vast Imperium of Man?"

She asked in a tone which was laden with sympathy and sadness directed at the gathered, who never had the chance to walk through the towering gates of Imperial cathedrals when the cardinals and confessors said praises of the Lord soured up into the sky, never were standing next to a street when row after row of Imperial guardsmen were walking past them, their feet thundering on the stone of the street as the rumbling Leman Russ Battle tanks drove along their sides.

"Your prophets might have moved millions and set the rails for the history of your world, but what are those millions compared to the trillions of faithful who praise the Emperor on a million worlds?

They are local prophets at best, their messages stuck in your few systems as long as your technological progress keeps you reliant on the left overs of a long past xeno race! "But this isn`t true!", You will tell me, and I have read it in your Extra-net as well, but let me ask you: how many followers does your three faiths have? More than 30%...40% of all humans on earth and in her colonies at best! That leaves more than the half of humanity without His guiding hand and even more of them are even leading a miserable existence in the ignorance which spurns from the lack of faith and will sooner or later lead them to catastrophe! And what has led you to this? ", Flavia asked, not even trying to suppress her scorn as she looked down at the already thinned out wooden benches were some people were nodding lightly to her words, while others stood up and also walked out, leaving her with barely a fifth of those who sat or rather slept through her "brothers" sermons. "The "discovery" of the Prothean ruins. That was everything it took to push all three of your religions into one of their deepest crisis, the mere existence of xeno's shattered your view of the world and made people lose faith in your churches in masses!", The missionary chided as her lips quivered in barely suppressed contempt as she thought of these splinter sects of the Imperial cult not even being able to spin this to their favour. "In Genesis 1, 26-30 two very basic tenants are being told:

1\. God created humankind in his own image: for He is the peak of humanity itself!

2\. Fill the earth and subjugate it!: For He has given us His creation and given us the right to rule it for His Glory and the Golden Throne!

What have you done to live up to His decree? Have you snapped out of the childish fights between yourselves? Have you taken the torch of faith and carried it into the darkness of the Universe like I and my order are dedicated to do? **You did nothing!**",

she thundered from above their heads her bionic flaring up once more, its orange and red light reflecting from the walls closest to her as her scorching glare moved over her audience. "You had your first taste of the cruelty the universe can throw at you as soon as you started to expanding, running headfirst into the small skirmish you called:

"First contact war" taking place on the** first planet** you ever colonized from earth! **And you lost it!** Not through the weakness of man but through the ruthlessness of the Turian general, who didn`t recoil from the mere thought of using an asteroid of all things** against civilian targets!" **

Somewhere in the back of her mind the missionary was laughing at the dark shadows of agitation which appeared on the listeners faces and gradually shifted into an anger filled expression on some of the older faces: They were already reacting appropriately to the savagery of the xeno, now she only had to improve it and show them how glorious His wrath was in return….but this still had to be scheduled for the future.

"But how did your leadership react to it? Did they see reason after this unprovoked attack? Did they try to lead a counterattack against the xenos which had so wickedly murdered your fellow humans?",

she asked rhetorical with a soft tone, indicating a mood of "more in sorrow than in anger", before reaching out to them with open arms:

** "I`ll tell you what happened!** You got lulled in by the "humanity" the Asari and their sweet promise of peace: a peace with those murderers who suddenly became the upholding power of law when the System Alliance joined the Citadel space! They are nothing more than bullies and cowards, why else would they have the xenos decided to stop hostilities which had no other aim than to make a weak "new" race into slaves in all but name?

Did joining them actually improve your living? If it would have, wouldn't you be part of Alliance space now instead of sitting here on an independent colony, which may be raided by slavers any moment? Slavers who simply get ignored by the Alliance and the Citadel, which cannot even defend their own colonies and instead simply endure the "negligible" loses and attacks those batarian scum launches on other races in the name of a cultural tradition!", her words were carried through the silent room and the mixture of anger and grief was growing as small whispers went from one person to another, someone laying a hand on the mother's shoulder who's children were lost, a brother weeping for his sister who had surely found her way onto a slave market to be never seen again. In this highly charged situation Flavia Sophana said a simple sentence which was the basic truth in all situations, not that the backwards savages from outside His sacred Empire would even know:

"This wouldn't be allowed to happen in the Imperium, For it is the Imperium of **MANKIND!** And reaches as far as the smallest human settlement 'cause no world is outside of His reach and no human will ever be without his protection!"

After bellowing this last sentence her features shifted into a softer tone as she looked down at the small core of those who had stayed through the whole length of her sermon: somewhere between two to three hundred. They were a nice split through the whole society of Cyrene: men and women, old and young, and most importantly: they were mixed from all three faiths.

"I know this is not the Imperium of His will: you were lost for so long and have forgotten so much. But when I look down at you I see hope, I see the basic corner stone the Imperium is founded on: man and nothing but man!",

Gently, with kind love infused in every movement, she crossed her hands into the sign of the Aquila closing her eyes and looking upwards at the ceiling as a melodious song escaped from her lips and started to fill the room, its softness at total odds with her furious speech of before, but strangely soothing to all listeners:

"Love the Emperor, For He is the salvation of mankind Obey his words, for He will lead you into the light of the future

Heed His wisdom, for He will protect you from evil.

Whisper His prayers with devotion, for they will save your soul.

Honour His servants for they speak in His voice

Tremble before His majesty, for we all walk in His immortal shadow!"

Slowly opening her eyes ones again she opened her lips and only a moment later hundreds of voices called out:

**"AVE IMPERATOR!"**

* * *

Maybe not out of the devotion needed for a full conversion, but it showed how easily these humans could also be swayed with to indulge in a shared euphoria….a few hundred out of five thousand? It was a start.

Mrs Baker was shuffling through the dark hallways of the schola, her once plumb figure having lost quite a bit of her extra padding in the last few months: courtesy of the mandatory physical exercises and fasting the headmistress had introduced just shortly after her dreary chapel had started to fill with people who seemed to convert either from the Abrahamic religions or seemed to find the Imperial Cult, as the headmistress…missionary called it, attractive enough to lose the more critical view of religions which once brought them to atheism. Hurrying past a gathering of some older students, all of them bearing the blue sash Progena Satterfield had been first to show and snapping to something akin to military attention: their palm covering their hearths as they clicked their hills together.

Some months ago she would have been shaken by these children's readiness to subjugate themselves to a higher authority like this, but now it was merely normal making her react not much more than simply nodding to them as she walked past them, her flat heels clicking on the stone like floor and her own grey blazer neatly wrapped around her far thinner frame.

Once she might have also worried about the growing greyness her wardrobe was leaning towards but wearing something colourful in these walls was just…unfitting.

With a weary sigh she pushed the door to the teacher's lounge open, her fellow colleagues looking up from their cups and biscuits as Mrs Baker entered.

The room was still as dark as the rest of the rooms but the comfy chairs had always made the teachers gravitate towards it, making it bear the slight signs of humans choosing it as their favourite spot, reaching from a small bookshelf for Mr. Anderson and Miss Maier had put in here and which was steadily filling itself with hand written manuscripts the headmistress's two…assistants had written and supplied to the two younger teachers, to the small rack filled with wooden training swords and even spears Mr. Durand had immediately bought after leaving hospital and coming back to his job.

The whole episode about his injury was quickly solved anyway:

With having a visit by the headmistress and his return after the hospital doctors had decided he was fit to go again. But what came afterwards had surprised the other teachers just a bit at first: he immediately set out for Hailey Satterfield…. and apologized, with the reason that:

"It was no aimed hit, she only reacted in panic and got lucky or rather unlucky when she came through my defence and hit my throat by accident. It's mostly my fault for having goaded her and giving into an urge of rivalry when I felt the joy of fencing again after so many years."

Unsurprisingly the most uncomfortable person with this thing was Progena Satterfield herself at first, who still continued to blame herself for some time.

Who could hold it against the poor girl?

Two training accidents on the same day had surely left her quite distressed but from what they could see the prayers had helped her in this regard.

The fate of their driver had shaken all of them quite hard, even if only Mr Grimlay was present when the emergency service had arrived on the scene and driven her quickly into hospital, but the large amount of purple blood lacing the formerly green grass of the riding field had told most of them more than they were comfortable with.

Of course she and her colleagues had visited the officer at hospital some days later, of course the lessons had to be postponed when they were away and the headmistress was busy soothing Sister Marie.

But who could fault them, it must have been traumatic and if one person would blame herself for such an accident it was surely the kindest of the three Imperials. They quite clearly remembered her distraught expression and how the headmistress had escorted her toward her own room, carefully evading all contact with everyone else on the way.

They weren't even sure if the poor woman's nerves were able to endure a visit to the hospital in which officer D'roneus was lying until her condition got stabilized and she was able to be send to Thessia were the most modern methods of medical sciences were doing their best to wake her from her coma.

Nodding to each of her colleagues friendlily, she slipped into her usual chair and leaned back into the soft padding and closed her eyes with a weary sigh as Mr Anderson coughed politely to get everyone's attention.

As all eyes finally concentrated on him he smiled pleasantly, the shyness he had exhibited when first arriving at the schola slowly dwindling and not to a small degree thanks to the headmistress who pressed him into reading verses for the assembled audience in the schola's chapel.

"I know we all were a bit baffled, thinking the headmistress was crazy when she proclaimed to be from some sort of ancient Imperium ruled by a living god and called earth a "lost colony".",

Pausing for a moment he waited till each person in the room had nodded in turn, their emotions ranging from the eagerness of Mr. Grimlay to the passiveness of Mrs. Baker…while Mr. Durand's nose was between the pages of a fencing trainer Sister Marie had given him.

"Of course I thought it would just be the easiest way to find out on which world they were born or had their order's headquarters and….",

He stopped for a moment, his face fighting for a moment to keep calm:

"I couldn't find any!",

It blurts out of him in frustration so vehemently that his fellow teachers look at him in surprise, Mr Durand even looking up from his book as Tobias continued, his agitating slowly rising.

"And that is just not possible!

No one can evade registration completely and even if they were born on an independent colony like Cyrene: we are still sending our information about each birth to the Alliance whenever possible.

Even if….and it is only a slim chance: even if they have evaded registration at birth, they must be in some kind of organization the pure amount of books and literature they can not only recite but write down from memory alone…",

His voice quivered as he took a deep breath, and tried to stop himself from remembering the way all three of them could just sit at their wooden tables only fielding manual writing tools and start writing for hour after hour, the parchment filling with calligraphy and colourful pictures which ranged from the inspiring to the downright disgusting.

"…and…there is no mentioning of an Ecclesiarchy, Adeptus Sororitas, Imperium of Man if you don't look at some Terra Firma flyers and most importantly no God-Emperor who might be around in any modern society!

There's nothing about any of these names or institutions, not even a tiny hint of fiction or conspiracy rumours everyone seems to love so much!",

Throwing his arms up, he shifted back in his chair and looked at the others.

Reluctantly Miss Maier raised her voice, after taking a look into the otherwise silent crowd:

"Aren't you taking this too seriously? ",

She asked in a doubtful voice before quickly adding:

"I mean…isn't there another explanation…you are only searching in the totally normal Extra-net after all….I'm sure that the council has to know where they come from. It's bankrolling the whole school, so they would have to know were the headmistress is from….why would they give her anything otherwise?"

Mr Durand looked up for a moment from his book for some moments, giving a light nod as he looked at the young female teacher, not finding much fault with her logic.

"That might be true….",

Tobias said in consideration as he nodded slightly and closed his eyes:

"…but I asked my uncle about it.",

Opening his eyes once again he raised his hands in exasperation:

"He couldn`t find anything about them either.

And by the Throne: he`s a Councillor!"

With another audience the last outburst might have gathered some confused frowns, but nearly a year of exposure to the missionary and the nearly two hundred children and all the recent converts swelling their numbers even more, had left some traces in mannerism and speech, after all: where's the difference between using God or Emperor in your idioms?

"When I asked him he had only smiled lightly and promised to look into the matter, but when I phoned him a few weeks later he seemed as uncomfortable and puzzled by the whole thing as me right now. After I saw him like this he was evading my questions and he said that he would be meeting privately with the Asari Councillor, who`s the patron of the schola after all."

Taking a short breath he continued:

"It`s just….afterwards he didn`t want to talk about it again and made it quite clear to me that it was a matter which doesn`t concern me."

"So we are at a dead-end?",

Mr Grimlay finally chimed in, his fingertips drumming idly on the arms of his chair, as he thought about this for a moment and slowly said:

"When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.",

He quoted in a solemn tone, his eyes calm and collected, hiding a small agitation beneath their silver grey iris.

"You can`t be serious! You don`t want to tell me that all the hogwash about their so called Imperium or God-Emperor is true. We can`t be some kind of colony: we have fossils which let us trace down our evolution over the time of millions of years.,"

Mrs. Baker snapped irritated at her colleague as she crossed her arms unimpressed by this and glared at the chemistry teacher.

"It`s only one possibility.", Mr Grimlay said curtly, looking back unflinching.

"Uhhmm….it`s not that impossible…",

Jeanette said meekly from her seat, looking a bit embarrassed as the attention of everyone centred back on her:

"I mean…there`s always the discussion about a: "missing link" and we simply lack enough evidences to silence the last doubting voices of it….and even then the evolution of the modern man is spotty….I mean we aren`t even sure if it`s one kind of human who came from Africa and spread all over our world…"

Her cheeks heated lightly as she felt Mrs Baker's disapproving glare on herself and she lowered her gaze, trying to avoid any confrontation.

"Why do you bother with this anyway?", Mr Durand said softly as he closed his book and put it back into his bag.

"There`s no reason to fight about things like this….especially not so shortly before Christmas of all things.",

He said firmly and stood up, walking towards the coffee counter and pouring himself a cup, which he lead to his lips as he leaned against the wall:

"I mean….why should this concern us? I`m just doing my job right now, enjoying all the new things Sister Marie can teach me and the students when she visits in the lessons sometimes and right now I`m only looking forward to my Christmas holidays."

Simply shrugging he took his bag and walked towards the door, just as he wanted to open it someone pushed it open from the outside and nearly sends the heavy steel plates it was made off into his face.

Looking up to him a bit sheepishly was Hailey Satterfield, smiling a bit.

This was enough to shock most of the gathered teachers to the core: When had one of these kids smiled in front of them or outside of their own little groups and ranks?

Their disbelief at this only grew as their eyes feel to the Progena`s waist, her ever present blue sash wasn't ending near the handle of her baton, which absence might have been even more unreal than the smile still on Hailey's face…and where those flowers at the side of her visor clad cap?

"Missionary Sophana is awaiting you in the chapel; she didn't have a chance yet to see you today and is expecting you in a few minutes. It might be best if you simply followed me~",

She said in such a bright and happy tone that clashed virtually with all prior experiences the teachers had with her….which might explain why all five of them quickly jumped out of their seats and rushed to the door: after all you could never know what makes this kid smile:

Maybe she would think of a batarian slave raid as amusing?

One or two teachers shook their head lightly at that thought as they followed Satterfield's quick steps through the dark passages which connected the complex of the classrooms with the central chapel.

Looking at his colleagues with a little smile, their discussion from a moment ago nearly forgotten in surprise, as he looked at Satterfield's empty belt:

"God formed humanity in his own image: if he has given us fists why shouldn't we use those against ugly four-eyes?",

He whispered lightly to his colleagues guessing correctly what they were thinking and one or two small nervous chuckles rewarded him as his own smile widened as they opened a door to the courtyard in front of the chapel itself.

From the corner of his eye Tobias saw something white and red robed wielding a long staff with a semblance of antique microphones on top of it and his smile died as she gave him an inquiring glance as her cool voice reached his ears:

"I don't remember teaching you a verse like that?"

With his smile being on the full retreat off from his face, he squared his shoulder and looks at her calmly:

"It was a moment of inspiration Sister, after all we can never be sure at which hour the colony might be attacked."

For a moment he thought a small smile might have shown on her cool features and if he really didn't just imagine it a moment before there was something strange going on.

The suspicion seemed to be holding some truth as the now slightly bigger group stepped through the door of the chapel: only to take an involuntary step back as a loud and ceremonial music suddenly assaulted their ears.

But it wasn't the music itself: it was the sheer volume of human voices which had joined in loud hymns: the words foreign but impressive at the same time, light stumbles showing that not all of the people who had gathered today even knew what they were sing or even: how they should sing it.

But that didn't matter, their hands were folded over their chest in the sign of the two headed eagle the missionary had introduced to them and as far as one could look the benches and aisles were full of people, at least three hundred or more all in all, wearing not the orange and brown work suits colonists seemed to wear all day long but the best their wardrobes could offer: the evening dress typically only reserved to birthdays or marriages.

In the middle of the whole event was one person, who stood out of it,

In the middle of singing and activity stood one white robed person, her red hair cascading over her shoulders as she slowly lifted her arms as the hymn reached its peak.

"Man! You have seen the truth! Not any Truth, but the **IMPERIAL TRUTH!**",

She cried out as the last notes of the hymn fell silent and hundreds of eyes looked at her and the artfully grafted golden bird of prey on her chest, both heads reflecting the light of the candles in an archaic kind of festivity, catching everyone's eyes with the red light shine of its ruby, only far too similar to the bionic eye of its wearer.

"You have embraced His Vision with open hearts and minds!

You have closed both of them against the hideous influence of the faithless and xeno!

And you have gathered your wealth and poured it into a special gift:

Not one for Him! For he has only use for your actions,

but a gift for the whole parish!"

With quick steps she walked up the few steps leading up to the altar of the chapel and for the first time the teachers noticed the big….thing which stood behind it today: a great looming contour covered by a white fabric.

The missionary's steps lead her next to it and she grasped the fabric and pulled it off, a bright shine of gold dazzling all onlookers as the great window opposite of the altar and above the high portal opened for the first time in its year of existence and let the light of a distant star shine on the master of man's picture, on a moon which orbits a distant star, light years away from Holy Terra and his golden Throne:

"The Emperor is our **FATHER!**...",

the missionary's voice shouted into the ears of all present as their eyes slowly opened, still pained from the sudden onrush of the golden reflection and their breaths stopped in awe and reverence as their eyes settled on the larger than life sized statue of a man…no:

The statue of a God!

A hard face was looking into the distance, dark coloured eyes were following the edge of a flaming sword, its tip pointed upwards into the future.

Dark Hair was cascading over large pauldrons set in gold and bearing the two headed eagle of Prey and forming the winged clasps for the rich red coat hanging from His back.

Its enormous chest plate was covering a muscular chest and adorned by a variety of golden skulls and red rubies which was setting the motive for the equally armoured legs, the kneecaps being covered by one side of the eagle on each side, their eyes ever vigilant on those who looked at them.

It was too much; it wasn't just the artwork, the crafting put into the statue or its opulent ornaments: the complete look of it was simply…superhumanly and for the first time the faithful of Cyrene were falling to their knees in devotion to the picture erected for His Glory!

"…and our **GUARDIAN!**"

But this wasn't the entire thing, far from it:

In front of the Emperor were His finest warriors: clad in gold and white ivory, their weapons and armours shining in the light the Ecclesiarchy had brought to the humans of this world.

And while they were dwarfed by the Emperor one had to see that His statue stood at six times the height of a man, filling most of the chapels back with His presence while His bulwark against Terror stood at twice the size of the largest man on Cyrene their power armor and bolters crafted in detail under the steady correction of the two Sisters.

", but we must also guard the Emperor!",

Flavia Sophona cried out as she finished quoting the most pious reformer the Ecclesiarchy ever had, her hands pointing down at the base of the group of Statues:

They were marching, boot next to boot, they weren't shining in gold but gleaming in steel, their eyes squared forward and the hands clutched around their lasguns as row after row of guardsmen endlessly marched forward, their bodies clad in the flak armour every human should have seen once in his life and their bayonets pointed forward.

Then before them came a cliff at the right side of the assemble and fleeing and falling from its edge were the enemies of the Emperor: the weak who have pledged themselves to the ruinous powers: the malformed and the corrupted in their rags and wielding crude auto guns their faces wide in terror and anguish as they wailed silently.

From the forest of proud flags the guardsmen carried were running not only those but also the xenos, wicked and crude their disgusting and animalistic appearance only from time to time would appear one that seemed familiar…having mandibles….bearing four eyes or crests on top of their heads all of them crafted to show the real wickedness of the leering and cowardly xeno.

With a smile on her face the missionary raised her hands to the assembled audience and a thundering: "Ave IMPERATOR!", erupted from hundreds of throats even the teachers finding themselves joining it while their sweat started to stick to their skin they themselves being dissolved in the euphoria the moment rose in each of them.

None noticed the particular way the rows were set, no one saw how those closest to the group of statues were sitting in special box on the aisles and no one noticed that many of them could be seen all around the colony on election posters:

Then sitting in the church were nearly all of those who lead Cyrene's Terra Firma movement.

But all eyes were on the women in white robes, all eyes were concentrated on her face as her lips moved lightly and a soft whisper ran through the room:

**"Merry Emperors Day"**

* * *

One year later, 2185 CE

* * *

Staff Lieutenant Fletcher reached up for his collar as the door of the small prayer room closed behind him, opening it lightly he took a deep breath before kneeling down on the thin mattress which covered the floor.

Because the SSV Verdun was only a frigate and as such far too small to fit real quarters for each officer but by stroke of luck he was able to talk the captain into letting him use this small cabinet as a prayer room….it had its perks to be widely seen as one of the "madmen" from the 24th fighter Group.

Touching the interface he had attached to the wall in front of him a picture slowly started to build up in front of him, the holographic display connecting to his recipient and as it finally went through the buoys at the Relays he bowed down as a voice asked him.

"You should be proud and rejoice…",

As the so familiar sentence reached his ears he crossed his palms on his chest and looked up into the glowing bionic of Missionary Flavia Sophana, replying with deep faith:

"…for there is no greater glory than a lifetime of dutiful service and in the end every sacrifice will be living on in His memory…. Ave Imperator.",

He finished softly and saw the approving nod of the one person who had given him such a deep guidance in his life and he listened respectfully as she asked:

"You wrote me that you intend to bring your ship to Cyrene?",

she said one eyebrow rising lightly at the idea.

"Yes honoured missionary… I would beg of you to…to…bless it in His name….I know that my comrades have not yet seen His light but… ",

his voice took on a tone of insecurity as he feared to have angered the missionary with his daring but he only got a light smile in return.

"Fear not, they are simply heathens and haven't heard his words yet, they are neither damned nor lost but only in need of guidance. I'll prepare a ritual of blessing in combat for your ship Thomas.",

The way she said his name made him blush quickly, not because of her looks: he had quickly grasped how far older she was than she really looked, but because of the approval it carried.

"Might you be victorious and bring destruction to His enemies.

The Emper-the Emp-pro-tt-ec-"

His blood ran cold as the calm voice was suddenly torn apart by static, the picture dying down and the voice garbling and desacralizing his most basic prayer as his fists clenched and his knuckles turned white.

He waited…a minute…an hour….his shipmates were pounding on the door as he slowly stood up: cold fire burning in his eyes:

She wouldn't break off right when invocating His name and no malfunction would either last so long or stop the missionary.

Something was amiss and he would be damned to the warp before he let His servants be stopped in their path.

As Thomas Fletcher, faithful of the God-Emperor, stormed out of the room, pushing his crewmates aside and against the passage's walls his eyes were set on the route to the bridge and his mind was filled with one simply thought:

**Through all our means we follow the Emperor's Command.**


	8. Mobilization

The moon Cyrene was glistening under the rays of the System's sun in a yellow hue which might make one think of baked butter, slowly dripping over a dark chocolate praline.

In this case said praline was a moon consisting of dark brown rock and adorned by a few great white sprinkles which were in fact the huge domes constructed on it, to allow for oxygen needing life to prosper in these thin eggshells of steel and glass.

Inside these frail habitats five thousand human souls were following their daily routine, working in the infrastructure which kept the colony going or even taking part in the loading and unloading of the crates the transport ships and companies were using to shift their goods through Cyrene and its Mass Relay into the Terminus Systems and back again, having long since either built or rented the needed space in the spaceport and the surrounding domes to keep some of their more… risky goods stowed away until a clearance could be found for them.

In fact the traffic through the relay wasn`t that heavy most often, tending more to convoys or large freighters which usually planned and sent their routes with the care of an overly careful Elcor,

scared of setting even one foot beside their intended path and tumbling down into the pit of law and criminal persecution which opened all the same when their cargo exploded onto their face.

This slow and sluggish traffic was responsible for two things very important for the colonists of Cyrene: to begin with, it simply was the sole base of the minor settlements economy, being, if you don`t mind some small mining businesses here and there, the only branch of the moons industry which didn`t directly serve the colonists' own needs and as such the only way to get credits from outside of their system infused into their own economy.

The second, one could say not even that surprising, point was that the warehouses were maybe the only reason why this community was an independent colony and not really a part of the Alliance space with all its perks, defences and….customs posts.

The trade cartels and companies using it to ship their more questionable goods in and out were certainly interested in some kind of semi-legalized port city, one could say: somehow akin to Ilium, just with even less control by a central authority and more legitimation of their shipping papers by having them written down in Council space.

Those who look at it with their two eyes would find themselves yawning lightly seeing the moon as nothing more than another negligible frontier settlement who`s only connection to the wider galaxy was the extra-net and the com buoys at the mass relay; it could remind one of the sleepy hamlets deep inside the forest like they once existed on earth itself.

With four eyes you would find your hands twitching and a frown jumping on your lips: five thousand potential slaves and you weren`t able to enslave them?

Damn the humans for storing any goods and money of enough Terminus warlords to have every wannabe pirate and raider who even came close to the warehouses finding himself on the bad side of multiple large pirate and mercenary outfits.

But there were those with neither two, nor the usual four eyes watching the colony at the moment,

in fact one might have to argue if the four sickly insectoid yellow orbs set into the wide carapace armoured head could even be called eyes anymore and not simply cameras.

The owner of these eyes didn`t mind the looks of the moon,

he or rather it didn`t care about the unofficial protection Cyrene was enjoying from companies of businesses and mercenaries nor about the fact that it was a sleepy hamlet, No.

As its short body crawled through the dark halls in the bowels of its ship, short limbs and claws reaching out to both sides and touching buttons and interfaces along the way, there wasn`t much it thought of, there was only a deep instinctual…urge to fulfil its masters command and so it made its way quickly to the command center deep inside the ship, its short body hurrying over the nearly organic floor in a hurry one might not have anticipated, its glowing eyes glancing along the wall seeing row after row of dark pods which will soon be filled.

Passing its large head through the door leading into the command center, it settled in the middle of it, its multiple limbs rising and ready to manipulate all the interfaces around it at a moment's notice, only a few clicks awakening the warrior drones and readying the swarm as it suddenly felt a familiar sensation in the back of its mind, its body slowly rising and being surrounded by ethereal energy as something seemed to shift inside of it and the four eyes erupted in a bright glow.

**"ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL"**

* * *

William Mathew didn`t think much was going to distinguish this day from any of the other days this week and so he was leaning against his cab and smoking lazily while his hand rested on his belly only watching out for costumers with one eye, it wasn`t like anyone from Cyrene itself would need him for the usual distances which could simply be walked, but of course there was no reason for his wife to know that.

Raising his left hand he activated his omni-tool, stifling a small yawn as he tried to access one of those funny video websites he had found some time ago.

-Unable to connect to server, please try again later-

Letting out a small curse regarding the bandwidth priorities William tried to refresh the site, hoping to get a connection now, but once again seemed to be unable to connect:

-Next port unavailable, buoy tracking unavailable-

"Must have been some time since I heard such hogwash, stupid thing must be broken no way the buoy is mis-"

He started to mutter, his head looking up as if trying to search for the com buoy alone by eye, which of course was totally impossible as even the mass relay could only be seen as a tiny grey dot in the darkness of space surrounding the dome as a consequence of Cyrene's lack of an atmosphere.

But what he did see was enough to let him stop in the middle of a word, his jaw falling open as he looked at the monstrous ship slowly manoeuvring over the Cyrene Spaceport with shock.

Who could fault his reaction? After all it wasn`t every day that a giant flying popsicle appears above your planet.

With this thought William weakly reached for his Omni-Tool trying to warn his wife…son….anyone!

A loud blaring klaxon saved him from deciding who to call first as the whole colony was filled with people who ran out of their homes, only clutching a bag or two of their possessions while running as fast as they could towards the emergency bunkers.

Someone ran into William and both went down to the floor with a startled cry a few books and jewellery rolling over the floor of the street.

"Emperor….merciful Emperor…"

William felt his lips curl up in distaste as he regarded one of those new religious nut cases for a moment, standing up and letting the elder man scramble to his feet on his own, only noticing out of the corner of his eye how the jewellery stayed on the floor and he scrambled away with the books clutched to his chest.

Frowning William suddenly noticed something odd, while most of the passers-by around him were frantically trying to reach an emergency shelter, the screech of the huge ships entry into the space port echoing through the air and quickening their pace, a part of them was seemingly running against the stream of the mass and most of them were slowly moving their lips seemingly whispering something while their eyes were set straight forward and their movements less shaken and more driven than their compatriots who were shaking in numb panic, pressing simply forward and letting themselves get swept aside instead of striding towards anything.

"William!",

Hearing the high pitched voice of his wife the cab driver turned around and opened his arms just in time to catch his wife, her face stricken with worry and her lips quivering in fear as she looked up to him, desperately trying to find something to which she could hold to as her life seemed to slip out of control.

"Where are Miriam and Tom, are the-",

He started quickly his eyes firmly attached to his wife and for the first time since the arrival of the popsicle his thoughts seemed to calm down and attach themselves to one single worry: his family.

"Daddy!", two small voices squeaked and William looked over his wife's shoulder, a stone falling from his heart as he saw his daughter and son, both in the arms of their neighbour, a young construction worker who was holding them up on strong arms which William up till now had mostly looked at in amusement or envy, but right now they appeared as a god-send as he saw his whole family safe and sound.

Taking a step forward and breaking the moment as the two children were carried with him, their neighbour looked at them with a worried expression:

"Mr &amp; Mrs Mathew, we have to continue quickly, the schola will try to hold her gates open until all those who seek shelter inside will have passed but that doesn`t tell us …Emperor may be merciful…how long they can!"

His eyes tightening as he heard the alien but already familiar becoming name "Emperor" with the deeply going meaning behind the title, William already wanted to snap at the man for being another religious nutter but remembered just in time who was helping rescuing his children…but carrying them away from the public shelters in this moment.

"Listen lad, I`m really grateful you looked out for my family but now I`m going to take them and we will head for-",

He didn`t get much farther as the whole dome took this moment to shake, the pre-fabricated walls of a living container across the street slowly sliding out of their position and falling down, shattering on the ground with a thunderous rumbling, sending dust and splinters through the air, sending the cab driver and the people surrounding him down to the floor, crying and coughing in blind panic.

"The Emperor…seems to have other plans.",

came a small whisper from beside William as he slowly blinked his eyes, trying to get the dust, which made them tear out, and he slowly took in his surroundings, letting out a relieved breath as she saw his wife safely tugged beside him and his neighbour not too far away, with both children under him and shielded by his own toned body.

In thanks to this William refrained from letting out a comment on his religious nonsense and simply tried to get up, being not the only one as he soon noticed who tried to get a better look and soon found themselves frozen.

If they looked towards the spaceport they could see the reason for the giant rumbling that sent them down: the popsicle had landed.

Towering massively over the buildings of and around the space port, its hull seemed to be a strange mix between gleaming metallic parts and a rocky, sometimes even organic seeming brown substance which formed the tips, or rather the upper body of the popsicle above a metallic ring which seemed to part it between the "ship" and the engines, but it wasn`t the size or the strangeness of the, somehow even clumsy looking, construct which made the people gasp and stumble backwards without a thought: that effect was thanks to its eyes.

All over the sides, the ship's openings started to appear, looking like a weird mandala or very creative drawings of eyes, with multiple of them circling around a central one alike to a flower motive, only that this one wasn`t purely ornamental but instead started to glow with barely constrained energy.

Wanting to warn his wife, William opened his mouth only to regret it deeply a moment later as an earth shattering explosion rocked the ground just a moment later, then another and another, the "eyes" of the vessel shooting the point-defense weapons at certain points all around the city, someone starting to shout "The Doors, they are targeting the blast doors! They want to space all of us!"

Cold fear gripped his heart as the image of two small lifeless body`s floating through the vacuum was passing his mind and with renewed energy he tried to push himself up from the floor, determined to grab his kids and wife and high tail it into the next public shelter.

But then came the cries and the angry buzzing, a sound one can only imagine if you think of an angry hornet's nest, then enlarge it by a thousand times and add little technical implants to each hornet with the tool to shape them into a terror and subjugating weapon.

One moment everyone was staring at the huge vessel as if bound to it by a charm,

only for it to break as doors opened towards its bowels and great brown clouds seemed to fly out of it, only to dive into the city moments later and now the real terror started as the panic, which could have turned out as a hoax or just an overreaction turned into a deep fear as the clouds revealed themselves to be swarms of small insects seeking every colonist they could find, uncaring if they were flying through a broad street or diving into the ventilation system of a building.

People seemed to become mad in fear as their neighbours, friends, even family started to drop around them as soon as one of the insects landed somewhere on their body, one sting dooming them into a state of living stillness, adorning the habitats of Cyrene with the unmoving, trapped statues of their owners.

The cab driver and his family didn`t know all these, but they started to hear the buzzing, the helpless screams on the comm lines as someone tried to reach anyone, crying until the moment one of the insects got them.

But while he and his wife were staring and standing there in shock, both of their children starting to cry, their tears flowing over their cheeks and forming clean lines into the dust covering them, their neighbour moved:

Gripping the children tightly he gave their parents a nudge before starting to move again, noting that they were following him or rather the distressed cries of their children with the nearly automatic care a parent usually gave his offspring as they hurried; at first through the mass of people standing in clear shock, before seeing it erupt into a panicked stampede, more and more dangerous for everyone in the way of its mindlessly running feet as the buzzing and crying grew louder and louder, closing more and more to their position.

Only a few selected seemed to brave the storm of emotion and dread as they walked against the stream of people, recognizing one another they inclined their heads into a small nod, before continuing their way, noticing with dismay how their number was dwindling, their comrades getting swept away by the stream of human bodies which ran towards the emergency shelters.

The Mathew family could only be grateful for their neighbour's imposing figure as he was standing in front of them like a rock withstanding the tidal waves of an angry sea, as he slowly but steadily pushed the small group forward.

Only that William didn`t see it like this, his meaty hands reaching out and grabbing his neighbour's collar as he wanted to cry that his family needed to head to the shelt-

The father and cab driver didn`t even get to finish his arms movement as a shock rippled through the mass of people, those at the front starting to shout, cry and then fall silent as tiny brown dots landed on them and froze them in the last moment of their panic.

For a few moments there was chaos: those at the front were falling and freezing without someone telling it to the people at the back, who started to push forward as those in the middle desperately tried to turn.

Once again William only found himself snapped out of the common fear as the broad shoulders of his neighbour, with his two children looking over them at him, started to move forward.

But this time he didn`t simply press himself through the masses, there was no time for this civilised niceties anymore: using his whole weight he threw himself forward into the people standing in their way sending them tumbling aside or on their back as he started to run through and over them, William's own heart starting to beat quickly in his chest as his hand clenched around his wife`s wrist and pulled her into and after this small path their neighbour was breaking for them.

There were long and awful moments, the crying of those unlucky enough to meet the swarm behind them becoming louder and steadily closer, while those around them looked up to William in passing as they tried to get on their feet again, but were ultimately either trampled over by their fellow colonists or met the swarm like this, lying helplessly on the ground were the path of one family had thrown them to.

But finally they seemed to have arrived, their helpful neighbour gasping a small:

"Thanks be the Emperor.",

As they ran into the tunnel leading to the separate dome which housed the schola, their hearts felt lighter as they basked in the illusion of close safety, the usually imposing armoured doors of the schola`s airlock seemingly so inviting all of a sudden.

But then their hearts filled with dread and their heads turned as one as the buzzing was finally over them, the streets behind them littered with the unmoving statues of their fellow citizens.

"Run!",

William didn`t know who said it, maybe he himself? But was it really his voice, sounding so high-pitched and shaken?

It didn`t matter, his legs started to move immediately, not caring to wait for any certain orders from his brain, simply struggling to get him and his wife to safety.

Was it really him who moved forward and felt like his body was moving through syrup, each movement being a herculean act of force as fear gripped his nerves and made every movement without the aim to curl himself up in a ball, a chore?

Nearly tripping over another, his feet stomped over the smooth surface, the heavy air lock promising safety of some kind as the buzzing grew louder and louder, his heart pumping the blood into his muscles as he ran towards the gates, his wife`s wrist held tightly as he came closer and closer to the gate.

But then he heard his children cry out in fear; "Daddy! Mommy!",

Turning around he saw his neighbours still and unmoving form on the floor with a brown insect settling on his neck and a large swarm hovering above him, silencing both of his children before they could let out another cry, only their eyes moving in panic as they tried to understand what just happened.

Time seemed to slow down and it was like he was looking at himself like a disconnected observer, only feeling a deadly numbness connected with the deep lose as the image of his children's still bodies seemed to burn into his mind in these seconds, which felt like an eternity as he gripped his wife tightly with despair giving him strength he never had needed before in his life, hauling her screaming and wiggling body towards the gate.

As they stumbled closer the gate opened and William pulled his wife deeper into the barely lit tunnel which was the schola`s airlock, just before arriving at the second gate.

Hitting the smooth material with both of their bodies, he let out a tortured breath as he found his final illusion grumbling, his wife having broken down into a sobbing mess next to him as his fleshy fists ponded against the last gate, the two headed eagle worked into it, looking down at him condemning as the buzzing became louder and louder behind him, echoing from the dark and smooth walls of the tunnel….wait….smooth?

His eyes slowly widened as he turned backwards, the open gate behind him letting light fall into the tunnel, the tiny insects forming a swarm which slowly moved towards the cab driver throwing long shadows against him and his wife. In the light he saw something move, his mind strangely disconnected from him, the fear and grief he felt only moments ago as his eyes tracked half a dozen small tubes on half spheres sticking out of the wall and slowly moving, positioning them until the ends pointed at the approaching swarm which seemed to be even growing in size as it followed him like an cat followed a rat into a dead end alley.

With slow disbelief he watched how a small flame sprang into existence beneath each tube`s end, a small tube holding the dark orange, nearly white flame readily and hungrily.

**"For the Emperor!"**,

Came a muffled cry from behind the wall and William barely got his hands up, shielding his face, while trying to position himself defensively in front of his wife.

Fire is fascinating to the normal human, little children enjoying the playing with candles and small flint stones, giggling and pointing for their parents to see how a small spark jumped around until landing on something dry, starting to devour it and grow further and further until reaching the size of a small bonfire.

From before the time of human civilization, the bonfire was the nightly defence of human hunters and gatherers; offering light and warmth while keeping wild animals away from the camps.

It started in this primitive age: humans using burning sticks/torches to scare their prey, driving it forward and into traps like canyons and self-dug pits, but it didn't end up as a simple tool for hunting.

Soon humans started to use it against one another, flaming arrows were used to burn the first cottages, Greek fire terrified the sailors of the early medieval ages and burning pottery was hauled into besieged cities with catapults and cannons at the last steps into the early modern age.

Even in the eclipse of mass effect weaponry: the age of the most deadly sand grains ever used against other living beings; fire still had its place in battle….even if it was mostly banned and the only military application in general use was an human copy of a turian copy made of a civilian jungle clearing tool, which meant that this could either cook pirates or clear some weeds.

But the M-451 Firestorm, so named when copied by the Alliance Military, wasn't a traditional flamethrower per se, having a much shorter range and less spread than even those made more than two hundred years ago.

Thankfully the Adeptus Sororitas knew better:

And so the first "real" flamethrowers in this sectors recent military history went to work:

Running from large canisters inside the wall, gushing through the three feet long tubes sticking into the tunnel, Promethium rushed into its intended canals; the sticky and very flammable fuel finding its way out of the tip with the whole pressure it had built up inside its tank, spilling out like a liquid gel, which immediately took fire as it passed the small flame and made contact with the air at the end of the tube.

Caught In the middle of six such streams of terribly hot blue flames the tiny mechanical insects the Collectors had used so successfully till now had no chance at all.

In the few moments William stayed conscious, before the smoke filled his lungs and the temperature which turned the tunnel into an oven made his lips break under dryness,

he had one fleeting thought before darkness overtook him and he barely felt hands grabbing him from behind and pulling him away:

"It sounds….nearly like making popcorn."

And with this he passed out as he passed the threshold into the last human held dome on the moon, faint singing lulling him in as the remains of those tiny insidious machine slaves were crackling and sparking on the floor of the single entrance to the schola.

Most certainly, the safest place left for the colonists anyway.

* * *

**"This is….is….Heresy!"**

Bathed in the dim light of the storage room, Missionary Sophana was holding a training sword of the progena upside down, its hilt opened and the gap on its edge filled with a durable chain, each segment holding a sharp, diamond dust coated teeth; the best compromise between production costs and sharpness, coming close to the original molecular level of Imperial chainswords.

The durable handle was glowing in a cold blue, a soft humming sound resonating from inside of it as a small energy source, not to dissimilar from those powering mass effect weapons, was starting to move the chain along the edge, letting the teeth move in the same movement a chainsaw would have used to cut through wood.

Looking up at the accusing voice her bionic eye flared lightly, bathing the red robes of Sister Marina in a ghastly light and illuminating the dark barrel of her laspistol trained at Flavia's head barely.

**"How did you come to this….accusation?",**

She said in a cold clearly cut voice, her other hand reaching down and picking the swords pommel, stylized in a golden skull, up and screwing it back on the grips end calmly.

**"What you are doing is tech-heresy! It's the Mechanicus' divine right to govern and maintain all the machinery in accord with the aspect of the omnipotent Emperor they are worshipping."**,

Came the hot reply, a finger tightening around the trigger of the laspistol, pointed unwavering at the missionaries head.

**"You are neither very experienced in the work of the Missionarus Galaxia nor are you standing before me and your Sisters in the regards of age, so how come that you dare to presume that it's your judgment which decides what's Heresy and alike?"**,

Sophana stated condescendingly, her tone frigid just like her posture, while her hands had tightened around the chainsword's grip, a thumb running along the trigger for its engine to start.

**"It's the duty of each servant of the Emperor to keep watch over the purity of his fellow man…"**,

The Sister insisted on unflinching.

**"And it's their duty to obey their superior, as there is no higher call than those of obedience towards those who represent His divine will for you.", the Missionary replies softly, the engine inside of her sword already running but missing its typical Imperial trademarks: the loud rumbling and the fume of burning promethium fuel.**

**"But you are breaking the very laws and pacts the Emperor himself created when he went into the Alliance with the Martian Brotherhood and signed the Treaty of Mars!"**,

Stated with the finality one can only gain if the official documents stand behind one.

**"Am I? Tell me: Have you ever seen a mechanicus wielding a stone axe?**

**Ploughing a field with a wooden plough carved with his own hands? I have not.**

**But I have seen enough Worlds, both blessed and untouched by the call of His words, to know that the basic understanding of artisans and craftsman are something which is common to mankind and even those not accepted into the Brotherhood are allowed, no: need to learn it!**

**If you would have visited a forge world you would know that the Mechanicus' recruits from those people to begin with."**,

The missionary said in the tone a teacher would use with a disappointing student, lowering her hand and letting the tip of the chainsword tap against the floor.

**"This is not a plough."**,

The sister of the Ordo Dialogues drawled with squinted eyes.

**"No it isn't: it's a sword. Feral worlds on which blacksmiths are forging iron, steel or even only bronze swords aren't heretics, but this one is heresy?"**,

Came the quick reply, making the Sister grit her teeth as she cried:

**"That's not comparable!"**

Crossing her arms, the sword lazily swinging with the movement, she smirks lightly as she looks first at Sister Marina and then at the doorframe behind her.

**"Why not? An iron sword is just a step on the road of perfection which finally leads to the sacred tolls which are the chain- and powerswords.**

**So where is the turning point at which the creation of something struggling to the perfection the Mechanicus seeks in the divine templates turns into heresy?**

**Is there even such a point? Do the daemonic powers care about the physical existence of their medium, you weren`t there at that time but once we had to see a whole planet, together with the population we had tried to lead into the faith, die because of stone daggers.**

**The hearts of thousands were killed with them over the ages and slowly the whole tribal culture around it had become corrupted by the archenemy.**

**You might be right with calling this heresy, but in the Missionarus we simply see it as a temporary solution which will either get fixed or banned by the time the next Mechanicus representative arrives and you can be calm, as the soothing prayers for real chainswords will be more than enough for their more primitive cousins.**

**You can lower your blade Sister Maria, I'm sure Sister Marina has seen the point."**,

The voice of the Missionary was nearly amused as Sister Marina spun around, only to find a deactivated power word held in the hands of Sister Maria, whose face just as firmly in check as her sword arm.

Seeing her Sister side with the missionary she slowly lowered her pistol, Flavia giving her a small glare before pointing at the door.

**"Honour His Servants**

**For they speak in his voice.**

**And now go outside and look for the refugees I'm sure that Progena Satterfield will need your help to get their moral higher soon."**

Looking at the missionary for a long moment, Sister Marina finally gives her a curt nod, striding out of the armoury and leaving Flavia along with the elder Sister.

**"She's young….and not as used to our work yet honoured missionary."**,

The former Seraphim said softly, entering the armoury on silent feet and sitting down on a crate with a grin:

**"But I'm sure; she will soon forget this little….dispute and will enjoy the fruits of our work."**

Raising an eyebrow Flavia crosses her arms over her rich robes and lets a hand slide into a half opened crate, trailing slowly over a dozen long and smooth barrels her lips tucking upwards to form a grin answering to Sister Maria's amusement.

**"Let's see how the Progena will like their new toys."**

* * *

**"This is no exercise! Everyone suit up!",**

Hailey growled as she walked through the schola's corridor her watchful eyes looking at those of her fellow progena who seemed to slow down the process with a glaring contempt.

Close to her sixteenth birthday now she had already reached the height of 1.75 meters, towering above nearly all of the newly introduced progena who had arrived little more than half a year ago and were new manning the flamethrowers at the gates, while she was urging those in her year with words mostly, the flat side of her sword not being needed since some months: most disciplinary functions having been taken over by Heinrich and his fellow Arbites, their yellow badges standing out at one corner of the changing room.

**"Heinrich!"**, Hailey called out with a faint grin on her face as she strode over to him and his Arbites giving them a small nod, which they answered with a respectful half bow, their armaments resting against the wall.

**"Hailey….no: Junior Commissar Satterfield, what do we owe the pleasure?"**,

Came the friendly response, slightly muffled by the full helmet Heinrich was wearing:

Made from heavy armour material and covering his head like a turned bell it left no patch of skin exposed: the eyes secured by heavy goggles set into it, while the mouthpiece had an integrated rebreater into it, using the basic design of a human heavy armour it was "only" customized with a heavy golden Aquilla on the front of the helmet, verses of the Lex Imperialis etched into the breastplate and a heavy pair of gloves also bearing the Aquilla above the knuckles.

How a sixteen year old was wearing this getup?

One simply did, nearly two years of training and of course the rather heavy food with some "extras" in it had helped to build the needed strength and stamina up, not to forget that the local armours were mostly hard suits with additional armour plates attached to them: very modular: it wasn't like they were feeding the Progena Spur or Onslaught; there were certainly more…subtle ways.

Resting her hand on the pommel of her still sheathed sword, the Eagle head it was made to resemble pressing reassuringly into her palm, Hailey looks over Heinrich's Arbites, most of them wearing a similar outfit to him, with the difference of him being the only one wearing a duster above the armour, while leaning on his large riot shield.

**"And where is your beloved shaft?"**,

the junior commissar asks with a smile, looking up to the head arbites of the schola, the former bookworm looking down at her from his nearly two meter height.

**"If you mean my Lieberschaft 2180 Junior Commissar, it's right…"**,

Reaching to the side of his armour he unclasps a compact shotgun and lets it fall into one armoured hand, mechanical compensators starting to spin as they stabilize his arm and let him lift and even aim the Eviscerator effortlessly.

**"….here."**

**"I see you are ready to make the God-Emperor proud, we will see each other on the field then. May the Emperor watch over you."**,

She intones solemnly and forms the sign of the Aquila the gathered Arbites replying in kind before she looks up again and starts to continue into the next changing room, her eyes sweeping over the gathered Progena who dutifully tried to dress faster.

Seeing them slip right into the hardsuits, wearing nothing more than their underwear, Hailey was a bit torn: should she feel thankful for being able to save all the time or envious for missing the additional armour on her legs, arm and of course her head.

Comparing their setups she found the equipment of the Progena who were chosen to become Tempestus Scions quite daunting anyway:

Over their isolated light hardsuit, which covered all of their body and even went above their short cut hair, only leaving their faces, which were set stony, exposed, they were wearing their schola uniforms, the grey contrasting with the black of their suit.

But of course it didn't end only with this light armour, but unlike the usual armours in this sector the rest came as detached plates.

The main piece, which Hailey shared with them, was the heavy breastplate: akin to something straight out of the Thirty Year War, it was curved and left no unbowed surfaces at the front or back. Unlike its historical appearance the materials used for it were as modern as possible for a schola on a backwater moon to get:

With the importing of military grade heavy armours for a few hundred progena out of question thanks to the expenses and questions it would have generated, the current body armour was a bit of an compromise between protection and cost effectiveness, being literally pressed into one piece out of civilian grade hazard work armour, being a dull black while not yet covered with the silver reflecting colour the finished products already had, its borders adorned by gold.

But while the breastplate offered quite the protection, even compared to lower grade military hardware like those produced by batarian state arms, it still left much uncovered,

because of this the uniform consisted out of additional parts which could easily be slipped on just like a set of old plate armour.

Covering the rims of the breastplate were a set of pauldrons, which joined a set of bracers and gloves to form a fully armoured arm, which left nearly no opening for bullets to use and still had enough expanse to allow for a small cogitator in the right and an omni-tool in the left forearm bracers.

Their legs didn't have much of that protection:

Joining at the borders of the breastplate were a crotch protector and two plates covering part of their tights before simply ending, exposing the grey pants of their uniform.

The rest of the protection on their legs was something Hailey shared with them,

A set of knee protectors and heavy armoured boots reaching up just shy under their knees.

Even the helmets were fitting the overall theme;

While they were made from modern materials, using an integrated comm-bead to allow squad intern communication and a respirator identical to one an arbites would be using, they were returning to the memories of the "Glorious human history" as the missionary loved to put it, thanks to which the helmets resemble a more smoother and rounder burgonet with

It lacked the tall crest or comb of its renaissance inspiration, only hinting it while using the cheek flaps to work the respirator system into them, creating a mechanism with which it can be easily hinged and unhinged.

As Hailey strode towards the exit again she nodded contently as the first progena already stood at attention at the exit, forming up into their ten men infantry squads they had to work with as they weren't attached to any imperial guard regiment yet.

In the mind of the aspiring junior commissar the "yet" didn't wake any doubt about "if" there would be Imperial guard regiments at all.

She was a junior commissar bearing her holy duty and while the lack of a senior commissar posed some questions in the way she would reach the rank of a full commissar, this was simply another pebble on the long road He had set out for everyone to walk.

Walking between the Progena who respectfully moved to make place for her, she soon reached the armoury and its large warehouse, both accommodated in the wing opposite of the stables.

Entering through the large blast door, she found herself between busy rows of Progena clad in their complete armour set, the goggles of their helmets glowing in a menacing red to intimidate their enemies.

But right now they were mostly intimidated themselves, as they stood patiently until they reached one of the ten counters behind which one of Hailey's fellow junior commissar stood and regarded them for a moment, either scolding them if the armour wasn't worn properly (Something which didn't happen very often) or simply giving them a harsh nod before starting to give out their equipment to them.

And so one Storm Trooper after another found themselves grasping and attaching familiar items to their uniform, starting with the heavy belt from which three to five heavy Frag Grenades hang, their cylindrical form safely secured on the bottom, ready to be thrown with an fluid, often trained movement.

Slung over their backs were rucksacks which were filled with a myriad of things, ranging from the basic tools needed for field repairs to simple lights should the fight for the colony either reach into the night-time or should the invaders simply turn of the generators outside of the schola.

Next came the basic tools of their trade: a long bayonet which found its way to their right hip, while the other one was occupied a moment later by a M-5 Phalanx pistol, which originally was destined for some Agri world which cancelled the shipment at the last moment and so made them quite the cheap offer when some of the faithful bought them and gifted all three crates full of pistols to the schola.

With such a hand cannon, a bayonet the length of a short sword and a small combat knife which found its way into a sheath on the side of their boots, the Storm Troopers were read to face….particularly dangerous big game animals.

And while they wouldn't have hesitated to defend the schola with bare knives if needed, they knew there were more effective ways to deal with xenos.

_"And"_, Hailey mused to herself _"Nothing will take away the happy glint in their eyes when they look at their rifles like a child on his gift on Emperors day."_

She was certain that this was one of the things someone outside their circles wouldn't really understand, one look at the rifle which lay on the counters or rested against the walls would either make other soldiers grimace or smile amused.

With a length of 110 cm, it's far longer than the Avenger for example and with its rather slim appearance it seems rather archaic, a notion especially particularly expressed when one notices that the stock and nearly all parts of the rifle except the chamber for the heat sink, the barrel and the trigger are made out of wood.

Even the sight attached to its body casing doesn't help to stop people mistaking them for an interesting museum piece: non holographic, its old fashioned scope with optical lenses, a really rear and a front end, letting one calibrate the focus with a small mechanical screw at the side or simply use the iron sigh squeezed beneath it.

The Barrel doesn't win any awards either, as it's encased in the wood on all sides until it reaches the muzzle, where two rings are fit around it, either for a grenade launcher or for the bayonet everyone is carrying.

To a degree Hailey couldn't fault such a reaction, after all the Cyrene pattern lasgun as the missionary had called it, or Rene as the Progena called it when they thought they were outside of their commissar's hearing range, was a child which could only be loved by its mother.

But on the other hand: it was a functioning direct energy weapon, something the Citadel space hadn't seen in all its history:

true it's machine spirit was moody when it wasn't anointed properly every few days and the heat each shot generated limited it to 9 shots per thermo magazine and that only thanks to all the heat transferring tricks built into it: one of them being it's wooden body.

But it had its perks: one of them being its simplicity, using the crystals Mankind had brought to perfection as focus for the pinpoint laser beam of the lasgun, it only needed three carefully grown crystals and a native energy source, which proved as a blessing as it enabled the lasgun to shoot without needing to be reloaded with new power packs, to function.

While Hailey didn't know how it worked, she knew that the power sources were from the Avenger assault rifles each colony owned in abundance to ensure their own safety, leaving them with quite the surplus to work with.

Walking past the counters and towards the storage crates she lifted a Cyrene Pattern laspistol out, taking the familiar weight without any problem, even though the use of wood for this pistol wasn't enough and it had taken two small side mounted tubes which would expel hot air when close to overheating to make it workable, letting it be quite the danger to its user.

Her eyes fell on the side of the weapon, a small verse written under the stamp of the Aquilla which adorned each weapon just as sure as the small winged skull on each stock.

**"Doubt is the fatal flaw in any armor"**

Letting a small smile play over her lips she turned around and made sure everything was going according to the trainings they had before, knowing that all in all it had only taken a few minutes to mobilize sixteen squads of to-be Storm Troopers, twenty to-be junior commissars, additionally fifteen to-be arbites and five to-be preachers who's zeal was outweighing their combat prowess so far.

Stepping towards the back of the room she stopped in front of a small shrine, its body gilded, showing the Imperial Aquilla and outtakes of the Tactica Imperialis.

As her heavy gloved hands reached out and touched the handles of its golden door build into it, a shiver went through the gathered Progena behind her, their eyes turning down to the floor and small prayers leaving their lips as the shrine's doors swung open and exposed a green silk cloth, faint golden embroideries visible.

Reaching behind it until she grasped something hard, Hailey felt her own heart rise as she slowly stepped back, clutching a long flagpole in one hand, its wooden length adorned in holy scripture and it's tip crowned by a golden eagle of prey.

Stepping backwards and facing her fellow Progena she raised the banner over her head, the cloth unrolling, exposing a large winged skull on a green base and with silver framing in its corners.

Looking into the faces of her fellow Progena, one the same as the other, all clad in the uniform of His most ardent service, she felt her voice rise as she shouted with everyone's attention on her:

**"Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Terra, duty, loyalty and The God-Emperor of Mankind!"**

**"Terra, Duty, Loyalty and the Emperor!"**,

Came the thunderous reply out of two hundred throats as rifles were raised and swords drawn by squad leaders, their minds and beliefs: one, as junior commissar Satterfield shouted back at them:

**"A good death celebrates a hero's life; a bad death merely ends a wasted one."**


	9. PDF

William groaned deeply as he stirred, whatever he was lying on didn't like this one bit and voiced its opinion with a loud metallic squeaking.

As William tried to open his eyes his efforts were rewarded by another sharp pain as bright artificial light shone onto them, making him close his eyes again out of reflex.

"Hey, he's waking up.", a voice announced and immediately something warm and heavy covered his chest, small sobs being heard as his wife cried out to him, her tears running over his neck.

"Uhhh…..what happened?",

Maybe not the most intelligent words after waking up, but it seemed appropriate as his eyes opened again and slowly adjusted to the light, the small bright stars stopping to flash against his eyelids.

A shadow leaned over him and gently pulled his wife off, patting her back as it lead her back into a chair where she hid her face in her hands and resumed crying.

"You might have burned yourself slightly Mr Mathew.",

came the amused reply and as he, William slowly regained his vision, was able to recognize Dr. McCloud his usual walrus moustache more messy than usual.

"What do you mean doctor….are we…in your clinic?",

He said a bit unsure as his eyes swept over the interior of the room they were in, which was most definitely not the little clinic across the central place of the colony…at least if Halloween didn't come early this year without him noticing and the good doctor had started to decorate his surgery with gilded skulls which leered down at him right now.

"No, I fear not…you must still be in shock, you literally arrived at the last moment, nearly didn't get you and your wife through the gate and any moment longer and you would have been nothing more than a pile of ash I fear. But rest assured that we…"

As the words slowly filtered through his ears and reached his brain, William jumped up from the bed, his hands grasping the doctor's coat desperately, pulling him closer as he gasped in terror:

"Miriam! Tom! My children did they….",

His breathing stopped as the doctor looked at him with a sad expression, his hands coming down and gently prying Williams off.

For a moment it was like he was falling into a bottomless pit, his own sobs joining those of his wife as he buried his face in his hands, before his inner eye the same scene played mercilessly one time after another:

His neighbour falling,

His children crying as they hit the ground,

Their panic cries for them…their parents as those insects landed on them and then…nothing.

"Mr Mathew….William?",

came the doctors soothing voice and he felt a hand patting his shoulder lightly.

"Do not despair….everything isn't over yet, the Emperor…"

As he heard this phrase something snapped inside of him and his face became a dark red in rage as he bellowed angrily:

"You and your Emperor! Just shut up with this hogwash! If my neighbour wouldn't have been one of your club my family might have arrived in a public shelter and then there would be nothing lost!"

The doctor visibly flinched at the cursing, his own face becoming clouded in anger as he heard William talk like this about the Emperor and his own new found faith.

Clenching his fists for a moment, the doctor calmed down a little bit, his hand going to his left forearm tapping a few commands into his Omni-tool, before snapping back:

"And what good would it have done you? These Xenos seemed to have impaired all larger electronic systems in the colony, there's no juice for any of the logs, the security measurements or the cameras: they can stride around with their dirty feet and trample over our lives with no worry!"

Hearing McCloud shouting back at him like this William crated his teeth as he leaned back into the bed again, slowly letting the new information go through his head before slowly saying:

"That's not possible; these shelters were made for even the worst slaver scum in the Terminus to either despair on the thickness of their gates or to take so much time for it that the distress call which was send over the buoy would reach the next Alliance outpost."

A small scoff escaped McCloud as he looked down at his patient and shook his head:

"We have no communication with either of the shelters, the cameras in the main dome are offline and the generators were turned off from what we can see.

And as for the comm-buoy…we presume that they are able to jam it somehow or have plainly destroyed it, the same goes for our handheld communication: talking inside a house or at best a block is fine…but everything which goes beyond that range…

We can only thank the Emperor that the missionary has seen to building this fortress of his faithful totally independent from the main-colony."

Paling slowly as he digested the words, William reached for the side of his bed, his hands starting to shake:

"What you mean…no help is coming and everyone…everyone except us is….",

His face froze as he whispered his children's names over and over again, wanting to remember how their smiles looked like but only seeing the vision of those two small, unmoving bodies.

"William! Will! Snap out of it!",

With a loud clap of flesh hitting flesh, the doctor slapped the cab driver's cheek and snapped him out of this nightmare again.

"We are not sure, but these xenos….aliens",

he added as he saw William's confused expression, before continuing:

"are out to catch people alive: We had one or two of their insects crawling inside after you and one person was frozen before we could get them; now he's in some kind of stasis, he can move his eyes and react to questions but otherwise seems unable to move at all."

For a moment William only stared at the doctor a small bit of hope rising inside of him, before asking:

"So Tom and Miriam…are still alive? And out there?",

He felt his hopes sink again as McCloud tried to give him a comforting look, his fingertips manipulating the Omni Tool until it started to play some sort of video, the quality seemed worse than usual, a bit more grained but that didn't matter at first as the only thing one could see was smoke.

"What…",

His interrupting was immediately shooed silent by the doctor, who only nodded at the video again. Frowning lightly William looked down at it again, burning for answers.

A moment later he started regretting it deeply,

then as the smoke started to clear he recognized the tunnel into which he flew, he even thought it might be him who was moving at the corner of the picture.

Giving him some sense of satisfaction at first were the small charred dots which littered the ground, a mess of clearly incinerated flesh and ashes around some lumps of molten metal.

That moment didn't last, then soon the smoke had cleared out of the tunnel, which lead to the outside once more as the front gate was opened, inviting other aliens to travel in if they would dare, and the camera brought the figures outside of the gate into focus.

There were his neighbour and his two children and if what the doctor had told him, all three must be alive, trapped but alive…

"God…..did someone get out and bring them inside? Are they here! I need to see them! Doctor, did something happen to th-!",

He stopped as a screeching sound, like from an angry insect cut through the silence the doctor had left him, his eyes slowly tracking back to the movie where a group of….things walked into the picture and they were simply…wrong.

They resembled….humanoid insects….while they were walking on two legs and used two arms they had a chitinous exoskeleton and an overly large tapering head with four sickly looking round eyes adorning its front.

Soon the first of those things came closer to his children and William felt the spit rising up in him as it turned around and let out a trill of insectoid chirps before turning around and letting a pair of wings spread from its back, taking to the air in one fluid motion.

The other four of its group reached to their backs and slipped a rifle of sorts into their hands or rather claws, training it into the general direction of the tunnel's entrance as they started to take cover between some cars and cargo crates.

Only a few seconds past before the flying scout reappeared in the camera's view and chirped something, at which they all stood up and made place….for another three of them shoving three hovering…coffins? Cocoons? into the picture.

Then his heart seemed to stop as they reached down and those clawed hands started to lift the three trapped bodies up from the floor, casting them into the cocoons without much of a thought, while turning their backs to the camera.

"Now…now…any moment….they are turning their backs towards you….someone will jump out…gun them down….",

He started to whisper with a voice which grew more and more hysterical as nothing seemed to happen and then he exploded again, this time as the last minutes of the video played and one of the insectoids turned around, firing its weapon at the camera, letting the picture end with an explosion and the sound of splinters.

Grabbing McCloud's lab coat William hurled him to the side, his anger having erupted like a volcano, giving him the strength to send the doctor crashing to the floor, while William himself started to wobble out of the bed.

His wife's sobs intensified next to him, but it was like a red curtain was lying over his gaze as he grabbed a metal stool and raised it over the still dazzled doctor, ready to end the life one of these…these…criminals who had left his children to be taken.

"Murder of a fellow human in such dire times is not only a crime….it's a treason to the God-Emperor himself.",

Said a calm and collected voice behind him, it was soft soprano maybe a bit richer then he had known from most women but the owner was clearly not all grown up yet and under normal circumstances William would have simply ignored one of this nut school kids anyway.

The cold metal which pressed against Will's temples wasn't what he would call normal and while his hands were still closed around the chair his eyes glances to the side and he could barely see the outstretched arm in a long sleeve which held something akin to a pistol….with its muzzle pressed against his head.

The chair slipped through his fingers and hit the floor with a thud as it fell the few centimetres to the ground and his face became pale as he thought about this…was it even a real pistol? He simply couldn't see from here, maybe they had really armed those children?

A fearful thought went through his mind: they were religious idiots: Why shouldn't they arm them? Expecting common sense wouldn't be too much thought, so he growled:

"Take that toy away kiddo I got a problem with the doctor not you….for now. So go and play with your dolls while I-",

A loud crack jolted him out of his sentence as the girl shifted her weapon to the side nearly to fast to see and left a mark William could see: a scorched and still angrily glowing area in the size of his palm were the metal of the floor was smouldering before his eyes.

"Doctor McCloud, your squad is waiting for you at the portable field hospital.",

the girl said without acknowledging him or what she had just done, simply looking down at the doctor who was already in the process of stumbling back on his feet without even moving to offer him a hand.

Those cold eyes turned and regarded him for a moment before wandering to the doctor's arm and a small question reached his ears:

"Yours? Both of them?"

Standing slightly straighter, at least wanting to see his death coming, William gave her a curt nod, his hand clenched in a fist but cooled down enough to know when not to charge against someone bearing a weapon with his bare fists.

"I take it that you are not of the faith?",

She asked patronizingly, her eyebrows arching lightly as she looked down at the cab driver and her lips forming a thin line.

"I'm not into your hogwash.",

He snapped before thinking of it otherwise, the thought and behaviour to deeply ingrained into him as to change it just because of a few seconds with a death threat hanging over him.

Hailey frowned angrily, her hand itching to align itself to this pagan and free him of this bleak and offending existence he lead without the Emperors light.

But before her fingers could close around the trigger again she remembered her orders and let her finger relax again, before looking at the Medicae:

"Why are you still here?",

Hailey asked with a neutral face and was rewarded with McCloud nodding and hurrying out of the door quickly.

Glancing from the sides of her vision she looked at the pagan coldly:

"The ninth squad of the third company is still short of one heavy weapons member."

"What?",

Came his reply accompanied by a dumb founded expression at her.

Resisting her urge to frown she pointed the pistol at his forehead again and wondered if lack of faith in the Emperor came with an feebleness in mental abilities, but only for a moment, after all: if the man would have a flicker of intelligence he wouldn't be a pagan anymore.

"Follow me, you will be added to a squad, your wounds are negligible and all capable men and those women who have no small children shall join the Planetary Defence Force."

The words came easy over her lips, having had to tell them to countless refugees till now and Thanks the Emperor: even if they had scores of pagans, none of them was stupid enough to argue with a loaded laspistol.

"No way in Hell that I wi-",

As she heard this annoying feeble minded fool open his mouth again she simply lunged out with her pistol, it's handle striking the idiot on the side of his head, sending the slightly larger male tumbling to the side only for him to get a well-placed kick in the ribs, which sent him into the cabinet on the side of the room, the metal withstanding his weight, while he sank to the ground and blood started to run out of his nose, one hand going up and trying to stall it while the other one was raised in a gesture of surrender.

_"Having a laspistol trained at his face might help the spineless coward."_

Hailey thought with something akin to detached amusement as she stared at the pale white face, only the red blood giving it some life as both eyes were looking into the darkness of her pistol's muzzle.

Taking a small breath she said calmly but coldly:

"The ninth squad of the third company is still short of one heavy weapons member. You will follow me now to the armoury and then join your squad mates.",

For a few moments she simply continued aiming at him, but as his eyes still seemed frozen in their look at its muzzled, she waved it impatiently and commanded.

"Up!"

Waiting for another few moments, Hailey let out a curse: "To the Warp with you",

Before reaching down and grabbing the man's collar and pulling him upwards on his unsteady legs, shoving him towards the stairs leading upwards.

After some moments Hailey noted that he seemed to have found the function of his feet again and moved a bit unsteadily in front of her, his feet nearly loosing contact with the stairs from time to time.

Barely suppressing an annoyed growl, "We have no time for this!" , she pressed the cold barrel against the back of his head and after the chubby man had frozen for a moment his next steps where quicker and more carefully placed: Doesn't the threat of death concentrate the idle mind wonderfully?

Following the staircase they arrived in a large room with many other colonists already starting to file out in ten person groups, leaving only a few last stragglers back, just as well, a nine person group whose eyes rose in worry as they saw the Junior Commissar and the man she was escorting.

Stopping in front of the small group Hailey turned towards an elderly man who was holding an unissued M-15 Vindicator rifle, in contrast to the other…conscripts who were holding M-8 Avengers in their arms. And unlike them he was also wearing real armour plates attached to his hardsuit, which was held in a light white with a blue sign placed on its collar.

"Sergeant Hofer?", she asked dryly just as the man snapped to attention, while wearing the tiniest trace of an mocking smile on his lips as he regarded her with all outer signs of utmost respect.

"Yes Ma'am! I can only hope this is not the tenth man you promised for my squad of heathens.",

he said with a straight face, unlike the other nine conscripts behind him, who were trying to hide their laughs in the high collars of their uniforms, which as a main part had a great coat with inlaid pockets in it, in which one could easily slip armour plates to cover the chest of each soldier, which gave them a lightly better protection than just the civilian suit they had to save themselves from environmental hazards.

"This is your tenth man, you can take him or go under strength...in which case there is no reason to endure this disgrace to humanity anymore.",

Hailey said dispassionately and flicked the safe off her laspistol, a faint click at which the nine conscripts flinched lightly before Sergeant Hofer stepped forward and raised his hands.

"You are driving a hard bargain Ma'am, but we will even take him without return guarantee.",

Taking a step back the Junior Commissar gave the ex-mercenary a small nod before marching to the other end of the room, heading for a door leading upwards to the Quarters of the new regiment's colonel who was just appointed by the missionary.

Left behind in the now rather empty armoury, Hofer turned around to one of his subordinates and pointed at the shaken man in front of her

"Here Miriam, get him into armour and then let him hold the grenade launcher….hopefully he knows what he will do with it….",

Wincing lightly as the still shell shocked man followed Miriam's lead with a stumbling and insecure walk, Hofer sighed and turned to another man of his squad.

"George, you will take the grenade launcher…let's give him the flamethrower and then…what do they say…yes: pray that the Emperor protects."

* * *

A very attractive blonde was kneeling in front of Tobias.

Now this wasn't something which young men like him would generally be opposed to, but normally the attractive blonde fumbling around with their pants weren't old enough to be ones grand-grand-grandmother.

Clicking her tongue Sister Marie was nodding lightly to herself before stepping back and straightening up again, looking into the discomfort in Tobias' face without paying it any mind.

"There you go Captain, I'm sure you will inspire the needed loyalty and bravery in your troops.",

He nearly flinched as she said "your" troops, it was still a very strange notion to him that someone was "his" to use and as he was told not that comforting that even included using them for gains which would be paid with their lives.

"It's standard procedure, a planetary government can rally PDF-Regiments and it's nothing special that the sons and daughters of the most important families fill the slots of commissioned officers.",

Said Sister Marie as she held up the long heavy breastplate and slipped it around his torso, before continuing:

"And you have translated and studied the Tactica Imperialis together with Sister Marina and Lieutenant Maier , you are from the house of Lord Councillor Anderson and are a scholar of the great human history in this sector. I'm sure that missionary Sophana has thought of all this and you won't disappoint her trust.",

Giving him a light smile as the armour slipped around him and she closed it, pulling on it lightly till it didn't make any ugly folds into his tunic anymore, before reaching up and patting his cheek comfortingly.

For a moment Anderson didn't seem to see Sister Marie anymore, at the touch he was only reminded of her true age and thoughts of his own grandmother slipped into his mind.

But as the moment went past them, he bit his lip and stood straight again as the Sister reached for a long coat which had to be worn over the breastplate, keeping him in the same gray as the rest of the newly founded Cyrene 1st PDF Company.

His company, the thought continued to haunt his mind as nimble fingers raised his coat collar and hide his neck below it, placing a clasp in the image of the Imperial Aquila on top of it. Tobias remembered the times when he was small and uncle David visited his family when he was on earth and had shore leave, he had climbed upon his brave uncles lap and demanded to be told about his heroics, how he stopped pirates and kept people safe.

With a dreadful feeling in his gut he recalled the looks his uncle sometimes got when he talked about friends…former friends and Tobias feared if his eyes will also look so haunted and dark in the future when he thought about this day.

His eyes wandered towards the mirror in his room and looked over the image it showed, if someone would have shown it to him two years ago he wouldn't have recognized himself.

Sharpened eyes looked back at him, set in a slightly more toned face, which was not only adorned by small light scars on his dark skin, courtesy of Sister Maria's swordplay, but also spouted two sideburns into which Sister Marina had talked him into one day.

The clothing was just as alien…or rather: familiar to him as scholar of history, his riding boots, the gleaming breastplate which was covered partly by his coat and belt, as well as the low shako he had taken from the Sisters hands and placed on his head, made him look like a reenactor who wanted to join the Napoleonic wars and then took a turn into the modernity again, picking everything he could get and scrambling it together.

As he finished the inspection he turned around, opening his mouth to ask Sister Marie something, only to automatically raise his hands as a heavy bundle was trusted in his arms.

"Here, the missionary just finished blessing them, your wargear Captain Anderson. ",

The blonde member of the Sororitas said with a grim but pleased expression as he gripped the chainsword's handle correctly on pure reflex while he pulled the heavy laspistol out of the bundle and placed it on a desk, before seeing that the "bundle" was a belt which he started to sling around his waist, while giving the sword a doubtful look.

"Sister Marie…I'm fully aware that you take your sword classes seriously….but we are going to charge into a warzone, aren't we?",

Saying this he waited for some moments until the Sister gave him a light nod,

"You see….wouldn't it be able to get me a rifle of sorts? Swordfights aren't that much of a part in modern warfare anymore…even the krogans tend to ram someone before using their guns to kill them.",

The words came over his lips a bit hesitantly but the cold look which he earned in return silenced him immediately as Sister Marie reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling it upwards together with the sword, which he surely wouldn't have even been able to lift two years ago.

Straightening Sister Marie was around his own height, maybe even slightly taller, as she stared in his eyes.

"The Emperor has chosen to make us the tools of our own salvation.

But humanity no matter how strong humanity can be, how noble in its endeavours and how mighty its armies: They stay human.",

She whispered and kept her eyes trained on him.

"I was on many battlefields in my life and there's only one warrior of mankind who fears no fear: the space marine. But those sons of the Emperor are not human, they sacrifice their humanity to become his bulwark and they cease to be human like us.

You know fear, I know fear but we do not let it control our actions, but dictate our actions through faith and bravery.

Your soldiers are only human, they are not even real guardsmen, they fight because of faith, they fight because they want to defend their homes, and they fight to save those left behind from the machinations of the xeno.

But they do not fight because they believe in humanity.",

Resolved blue eyes peered into him and he stared back and felt his own posture straightening as if the steel behind those words started to coat his spine.

Bringing the sword upwards, Sister Marie tore it out of the sheath and pressed against Tobias' hand, letting it come down on the sword's trigger which sprung to life and started to spin angrily, screeching with the sound of a hungry animal as it vibrated in his hand and her lips moved again:

"You are their Caption now,

You are their superior by the Grace of the God-Emperor.

You will show them what it means to be human, you will inspire them with your actions and you will take this sword and bring it to the enemy.

They shall not cower in fear, they shall know no doubt, they shall place their trust in you and you will be the spark which lights their belief in humanity and temper it in the blood of the xenos who dare to attack their homes."

Tobias felt his pulse pacing quickly and his heart thumbing up like it was trying to escape through his dry throat as he felt those two blue orbs centered on him.

Millennia of war and strive were looking down at him, trillions of martyrs seemed to be raising their voices as he looked at those icy orbs.

His hands moved nearly on their own as his thumbs interlocked on his chest and he intoned:

**"May the Emperor's Wrath forever cleanse our Souls"**

As he lowered his eyes solemnly, he didn't notice the small smile play of the Sister's lips as she heard him say: The Emperor's Wrath.

What happened next came over him like a fever dream, he had just holstered his weapons as his feet started to carry him out of his room and toward the gate, not in the stumbling of a sleepwalker but with the crystal clear and precise stride which showed a man with a mission.

As he moved towards the corridors, those of the Stormtroopers who were tasked with defending the schola snapped to attention as he passed them, opening the doors with their free hand as Tobias walked into the bright sunlight of the single star which was now bathing the last human held dome with its rays.

The Place before the gate was busy; there were walls and trenches torn into the floor around it forming a semi-cycle while heavy weapons were peeking out of the windows of the schola building behind.

Already waiting for him were hundreds of people, forming a line which pointed towards the gate, but was right now waiting idly, some whispering to another in low tones while others were clutching their rifles with nervous hands.

As he stepped out a few looked over to him and moments later he found himself surrounded by a small crowd of twelve teenagers who all sported red peaked caps with golden or silver skulls and Aquilas, all wearing light scowls and dark expressions on their faces whenever they turned to look at the conscripts, while drumming their fingertips against the grip of their pistols. Only a few moments later they were joined by six men and women, one of them being the English and Geography teacher Ms Maier who seemed to be slightly shaken, throwing the junior commissar next to her, who she had only thought yesterday and who was now fingering his pistol whenever she showed uncertainty on her face, with dismay.

Unlike him the slim frame of Janette was clad in a normal conscript's uniform, only her helmet was spouting a broader visor and a small gilded Aquila was displayed on the side of her collar. The only thing making her stand out a bit was the sword hanging on her hips, except for her, Tobias and the Progena only a handful of sergeants and another older Lieutenants who was part of Terra Firma, were wielding them after extensive lessons in their handling.

"Captain Anderson, Sir." Or simply "Captain Anderson.", greeted him as he looked into the round and nodded in return, noting that Lieutenant Mannheim, who was commanding platoon six, the heathens, seemed a bit grim as he looked at him.

"I take it, that you all have received the plan and the orders of your platoons together with it?",

The captain said and smiled a bit sardonically at the same affirmations, which only made him expect that his uncle might be standing behind him, as he was "Captain Anderson" and not Tobias.

"In that case I will ask of you to amuse me, Jeane…. Lieutenant Maier", he corrected himself in time, "I'll stay in your care, so what are your orders?"

A faint flush laid itself over the woman's face as she pursed her lips, the commissar next to her looking at her temples speculatively, before looking back at Tobias as she answered:

"The first company is to follow the Arbites on the heels through the gate, we are to keep close to their backs and shields at first and then spread out as fast as possible on the other side of the gate and start forming a beachhead for the other platoons to arrive."

"And from there second and third platoon will charge through the buildings on both sides of the main streets which we will reach easily as soon as we are out of the gate and passed the side street.",

A tall man threw in from the side in his function as Lieutenant Davis threw in, his tanned skin and muscles identifying him as one of the dockworkers….who also had a love for the solarium.

"Halfway through it fourth and fifth platoon will spread into each of the two side streets before taking the parallel routes around the main attack and secure the generator building with a flanking attack on the xenos, who will have to break through…"

"…the first, second and third platoon who will fortify the administration building.",

Jeanette Maier finished her colleague's, Lieutenant Turner, sentence, who gave her a small smile before her gaze settled on Lieutenant Mannheim, who was the only one who wasn't part of the Imperial cult and wasn't wearing a silver Aquila with his name and number around his neck.

"The sixth company will follow the fourth and fifth, but then part from them and instead of the generator building we will take the news tower in hope of finding a radio and phone for help."

Giving the man a sharp nod, Tobias looked at all of them again, desperately trying to hold his optimistic smile on his face as he pointed at one of the heavy weapon squads between the waiting companies and their three short and stubby guns.

"It will be most important that we can use our high advantage as much as we can, from the administration we can form a bastion in the enemies advance and thin their lines before they get to attack the other two groups, just as the generator buildings offers us a defence for our backs and sides, which leaves the sixth company In the tower as the third direction from which we can shoot at the enemy if it uses the main streets and with the tower being connected directly against the domes wall you do not have to fear sneak attacks. "

Barely stopping himself from letting out a relieved breath Tobias found that his words weren't that bad considered, what little there was still to say about a plan created by Flavia and Sister Marie, but at least some might think he had a little idea of what he was doing.

"What about the childr-Progena.",

Mannheim suddenly asked, giving the two junior commissars attached to his platoon a doubtful look.

"The Junior commissars will stay with the platoons, two for each and ensure discipline and inspire loyalty and bravery.",

Tobias said and gave Hailey Satterfield a small side glance who nodded just as subtly, before the Captain turned back to Mannheim and pointed at the heavily armoured Storm Troopers standing rigidly and silently behind each platoon, at least 20 of them for each.

"As for the Storm Troopers….you will find yourself having two squads of them attached as skirmishers, they will dispense into the structures surrounding your position and shoot high priority targets as well as undermining the enemy efforts wherever possible."

This got a row of nods and one by one the officers started to return to their platoons as Tobias wished them good luck.

At least only Lieutenant Mannheim remained with him, while all around them the noise was starting to rise as Non-coms started to get the conscripts on their feet and form them up in lines which stood behind the small spear point of no more than twenty arbiters who had raised their shields readily, their servo motors straining as they got the polycrystalline-composite shields weight upwards.

"I can say that I'm slightly relieved….Sir.",

he added after a moment and his eyes searched for those of his captain

"I can only speak for me and those who ended up in my platoon: but we were frankly a bit worried about the whole religious spin things have taken in the last few hours and how we are surrounded by people with….",

Pausing for a moment and inclining his head in a quick look for any nearby commissars, Mannheim continued:

"…with a very…deep religious fervour in these things.",

A small grimace flickered over his lips and he pointed a bit helplessly at the other platoons which had taken formation behind the arbites, and at each, one white robed figure was walking past the rows, swinging censers and singing some slow hymns as single troopers knelt down and received a blessing before standing up and into formation again.

"What I want to say Sir….while this whole thing is very suspicious to me, regarding the amounts of weapons and uniforms your headmistress came up with to arm little less than a fifth of the colony, I just wanted to say that we are glad that you do not seem to be as…enthusiastic about the whole religious affair, Captain."

A small hesitant smile spread over his lips as he snapped to attention after these words.

"Sir, we trust you to get us and our families out of this alive!"

Turning on his heels he started to walk towards his Platoon, all sixty heathens who had found a refugee in the schola were holding their weapons just as convinced and brave as the more religious three hundred troopers who were forming the first five platoons and the additional sixty men who were forming the six heavy weapon squads.

For a moment Tobias seemed faint and his head threatened to spin as the whole responsibility seemed to crush on him:

Four hundred and twenty Troopers, one hundred and twenty Storm Troopers and fifteen arbites who had to serve as walking wall and lead the first push were waiting for his command, their lives and deaths could be toyed around if he only used the right words.

With a small shudder he turned around and looked at the imposing dark building behind him, he was used to it by now, having called it a home for more than a year, but as he stared at it he thought about his students, who were now holding rifles and wearing armour into battle.

At his word.

Now he felt faint, now the dead in his worst nightmares bear faces, those of his students who he was now sending into their deaths.

Rationally he knew this was necessary, that they could only lose a siege, that one swarm of this insects would be enough to render all their defence obsolete.

Now they had a window of opportunity while the xenos were busy with gathering their prizes in those coffin-like cocoons and their swarms seemed to have returned to their ship.

A last look backwards let his eyes come to a rest on a small red light and standing over him and the gathered platoons was the missionary, raising her hand and earning a loud cheering from the gathered troopers. For a moment Captain Anderson thought she was looking at him, but then her eyes wandered further and out of a sudden a military tattoo could be heard and she raised her voice, strong and unwavering as Sister Marina broadcasted it over the place:

**The Legion of Damned and Lost in their Million,**  
**Are trying to shake the Golden throne,**  
**But from the Eye to the Emperor's hall,**  
**The Imperial Guard is the strongest of all!**

For a moment he listened mesmerized to it and only then he noticed the song swelling in volume as dozens of voices joined the missionary from the ranks of the 1st Company of Cyrene's PDF.

**Let the vaunted Guard,**  
**Masterfully grip**  
**Its bayonet with its battle-hardened hand,**  
**And we must all**  
**Irrepressibly**  
**Go into a last deadly fight!**

His body was walking forward without his mind registering again, one moment he was standing next to them and then he was between the ranks of the troopers who started to join the song, glistening bayonets raised over their heads and strong hands touching his shoulder as they parted before him like a sea, letting him march through the whole formation as he headed for the first platoon.

**Imperial Guard, march, march forward!**  
**The Emperor and his Saints call us into battle.**  
**For from the Eye to the Emperor's hall,**  
**The Imperial Guard is the strongest of all!**

Cheers joined the refrain and Tobias looked into faces, those who didn't even grow a beard yet, those which were shouting and singing with their white hair clinging to their sweating skin and those who would never grow a beard as their stomping joined the song.

**Let the vaunted Guard,**  
**Masterfully grip**  
**Its bayonet with its battle-hardened hand,**  
**And we must all**  
**Irrepressibly**  
**Go into a last deadly fight!**

As he reached the position next to Jeanette the lieutenant was looking at him with slightly glazed eyes, hundreds of voices, even those of the sixth company having joined the missionary whose red hair was blazing like fire in the sun light.

**We are fanning the flames of a galaxy-wide fire,**  
**We will raze fortresses and worlds to the ground.**  
**For from the Eye to the Emperor's hall,**  
**The Imperial Guard is the strongest of all!**

Tearing his sword out of the sheath and raising it over his head Tobias wasn't even sure if he said anything, his throat was feeling sore as he cried out with all his might and it didn't matter if someone even heard him, they saw.

**Let the vaunted Guard,**  
**Masterfully grip**  
**Its bayonet with its battle-hardened hand,**  
**And we must all**  
**Irrepressibly**  
**Go into a last deadly fight!**

With a faint rumble the heavy armoured doors leading into the dome opened.

No one heard it, as all sounds in the world seemed to be drowned out by the loud cheer which erupted from the company as they saw it opening and then…

**They charged.**

* * *

I simple hope everyone forgives me for even more build up~ But I promise the next chapters will be the battle.


	10. Advance!

**Advance!**

* * *

This is WIP, as either my Beta reader vanished again, or I'm simply impatient.

As such remember:

**Hope is the first step on the road to disappointment**

* * *

The Collectors were efficient, their work cut out and suited perfectly to their name and right now they did the one thing they were made for: collect.

More than four thousand of green coffin like cocoons were spread through the domes which formed Cyrene and each of them was standing next to one of the immobile colonists until one of the Collector drones appeared and pushed the unlucky victim into the tiny prison.

Their hand-grips were economical and effective, quick and indulgent to their "cargo" or at least indulgent to a degree which wouldn't interfere with their later use.

It was nearly boring in its methodically process.

Good that the last fifty thousand years had made the collectors unable to feel any such thing….or anything else which went above the basic calls of their body.

The only being in their ranks who might have a fleeting impression of boredom was feeling anything but it: knowing full well about the might presence lurking at the edges of its mind, ready to take control over any collector if the need….or interest should appear.

In it's own way the being which might be called General of the collectors was ecstatic, basking in the presence of it's master as it directed the drones from one assembly point to another, gathering and loading the current harvest onto it's ship without any problems or resistance.

A fleeting thought seemed to drift into its mind as it checked on the situation of a small picket force which had token position opposite of a door, which seemed to lead toward a smaller dome at the outskirts of the colony.

Some of the current harvest which its master had…tapped for information, the Collector didn't know why, but his claws twitched lightly at the thought about this, had labelled the building inside as a religious cult site from a new form of sect.

Its master had the Collector start collecting the rest of the harvest first, in countless circles before such sites were only used to hide and pray, which never helped their race a bit, and seize the cult building last, taking the children and elder who might be the most likely to hide there without resorting to the swarm…it was time for more tests on this human species.

With the flick of its claw the picket force was joined by another group which just finished loading the containers of Sector 3B into the ship itself and connecting them to the rendering machine for later use.

The Collector General turned its focus away from that gathering again; sure that the few organics left inside the dome must be terrified at the presence of its own drones:

In 84% of archived precedence's it had access to organics run into a cult site to pray for help when they are unable to help themselves.

Just as its attention shifted to another loading process the drones at the cults gate send a small chatter to its central and the General shifted back to them, its implants processing the data and cross-referencing it with the data bank:

\- Word recognized as language, but unclear which

\- Sound in the height reachable by unaugmented "human" throats

\- Tones following after another seem to follow a pattern

\- Cultural product named "music", used for recreation or inspirational purposes.

Maybe the organics were appeasing their fictional gods with it?

It had no interest in pursuing any such theories, going back to simply fulfilling the wishes of its very real gods, and with the flick of another claw all sixty Collectors who had gathered at that point raised their rifles as one.

* * *

Heinrich thanked the Emperor for the heavy helmet he was wearing,

But even with it covering his ears he was afraid of becoming deaf if the singing continued for longer!

The thundering steps hundreds of heavy boots made upon the concrete floor of the tunnel wasn't making it any better as he used his right hand to raise the volume of his com bead lightly.

"**We will pass the threshold in a moment; I want a line D Formation immediately: form a half circle around the entrance and let the PDF fan out of the tunnel, keep behind your shields and don't dare to get shot!",**

The last part was more of a good natured grumble as he closed his helmet off and watches his arbites do this in turn too, their hydraulic assist screeching as their left arms came up with mechanical precision, their polycrystalline-composite shields coming up as one and forming a black coloured wall of nearly impregnable armour that was advancing as fast as possible for the fifteen human tanks which was quite to slow for the sudden elation which took place behind them and Heinrich found himself scowling at the growing pressure he could feel behind him, the song swelling in volume and echoing through the tunnel as he saw a sword being raised behind him and then light suddenly meet his face as the gate opened.

With large steps the arbites strode forward, their helmets filtering the bright light away as it flooded into the tunnel. Heinrich lips murmured a small thankful prayer as the PDF behind him was blinded for a slight moment, letting his people gain two additional steps away from them. If now only…

A thud could be heard suddenly and his shield seemed to vibrate for the fracture of a second,

he didn't even get to finish his step as the one thud was joined by dozens of others, resembling a heavy rain hitting against the glass of a window.

Gritting his teeth, Heinrich forced himself to walk steadily, the onslaught against his shield continuing as it trembled in his grip, counting his step with growing detachment while keeping his head down and his whole body crouched behind the shield.

His feet took another step and he could feel hear a loud screeching noise and looking down he saw a long gash in the floor next to him where one of the enemies projectiles had slipped under his shield and ricocheted over the floor harmlessly…for now.

Cursing himself for not having noticed how he was subconsciously raising his shoulder higher than necessary, just because of the fear his head might bed hit, he barked into his com bead:

"**Shields, deep and down if you can, don't let them shoot or lop a grenade underneath the gaps!"**

Looking to the left and right, having taken the central place with seven arbites on each side of him, Heinrich, tapped lightly against the right side of his helmet, a small camera view jumping into action, giving him a life feed from the shields frontal camera:

In front of the gate were some meters of coverless area, after which came a cluster of fallen debris and overturned cars…not much but they first platoon should be able to advance through it and into the buildings behind.

Another thud which seemed to have impacted rather close to the camera made Heinrich frown lightly and correct himself: it will be a good area to advance after they had gotten those blasted xenos out of it.

A glance at the enemy already showed its monstrous nature, multiple eyes per abomination staring at him and his advancing comrades whenever one of them leaned out of cover to send a hail of bullets against the shield wall.

He didn't know why, but suddenly he was reminded of the times he went home with a umbrella when it was winy and how he was slowed down whenever the wind blew right against him.

Heinrich had no idea why something like that entered his mind, in a way those memories before the schola seemed so distant…like they were slipping away more and more.

But it was fitting, there had to be at least half a platoon of xenos firing at barely fifteen of them, meaning that each shield had more than a hundred bullets aimed at it per magazine those xenos seemed to use.

Another step and they were barely fifty or sixty meters away from the enemy, halting Heinrich saw his fellow arbites do the same, resting the bottom of the shield on the ground while their right arms snapped up, using a small notch at the side of the shield to point their Lieberschaft towards the enemy.

One of the most noteworthy features of said shotgun was its unique ammunition:

Instead of simply shaving off pellets from a metal block inside the gun, the M-22 Lieberschaft uses more aerodynamic projectiles: serrated metal wedges.

This not only gives it a far tighter grouping, making it an weapon even for medium ranges, but also improves it's armour piercing capabilities.

As the hydraulic system on his right arm steadied the weapon and he aimed it toward a xeno which was shifting its aim with the side of his arm he was showing ever so slightly at the edge of his shield, the most important fact in regards to his gun was its low weight.

Only this enabled Heinrich to use it like a pistol and as his finger pulled down the trigger he could feel the screeching of his inbuilt support, which had to catch the recoil of the gun.

But at that moment this wasn't the foremost thought in his mind: his lips curled into a snarl as he saw a showed of golden yellow coat the wall behind the xeno he had shoot at, its insectoid body burst open where the wedges hat penetrated the natural armour effortlessly.

"**They got no barriers!", **

He heard someone snarl into the com bead, most likely for the PDF to hear, which was right now exiting the tunnel in the cover the arbites were giving them.

Concentrating on his aim again Heinrich send another shot towards a xeno hiding behind a car, only to sigh in disappointment as it dove into cover again and the wedges instead shattered all glass before embedding themselves in a wall.

Taking a deep breath like Sister Marie had taught them, he calmed down and waited for the xeno to appear again in a small distance, sending the last shot of the Lieberschaft which ripped to top of it's ugly giant head away, leaving only a mangled mess in its place, with the two most left eyes twitching uncontrolled as the body fell over and a golden yellow pool of fluids gathered beneath it.

While the automatic reloader on his forearm inserted another thermal clip into his gun Heinrich gazes to both sides of him, taking in the status of the other arbites:

While their shields were slowly loosing some of their paint, even the Aquilas gilded on them were starting to show scratches across their surface, they were holding under the surprisingly accurate fire of mass effect weaponry without many problems.

As a small chime informed him of the readiness of his Lieberschaft and barking a few words into his com bead he lifted his shield of the ground again, taking a small step and smiling in grim approval as his comrades fell into his stride as one.

A small outcry of pain reminded him that this wasn't easy and after he fired another shot into the already shrinking number of enemies he risked a glance to the side:

Mai, one of his arbites, had her right arm hanging uselessly at her side, M-22 back in its holsters, while she tried to keep stride.

The armour on her forearm was showing scratches along its whole length, while smaller holes in the upper arm armour had penetrated as the red fluids dripping down her fingers indicated blood loose but it seemed to get not more at all, a faint trace of medigel smeared over her wounds.

As his gaze went a bit further back he saw a pair of boots and the beginning of legs, both of them drenched in blood and as the next PDF trooper stepped past it he forced himself to look forward again.

As the third shoot of his M-22 shook his right arm, he had to gag, fighting down nausea as his mind replayed the last image of the blood drenched pants and boots again.

Biting his lips he tried to recite one of the calming psalms they had learned, but the words came out weak and stuttering, his hand shaking as the next cooling clip was slipped in.

"_This is weakness", _

Heinrich tried to tell himself:

"_Everyone who falls will find himself at the Emperors table.",_

His breathing quickened as a small panic nearly settled in his mind, his finger squeezing the trigger even after the magazine was empty again.

"**This is our duty to the God-Emperor….death only serves the Em…",**

He tried to say loudly into his helmets, wanting to hear his one voice between the slowly abating hail of bullets, which thudded fewer but still loudly against his shield.

But before he could finish his words a loud scream from his right let his head snap towards it again and at the scene he spotted his instincts to shout orders and to puke everything he had in his belly out fought with one another:

Two arbites away from him in line something was battering a shield, not the sustained fire of the enemy assault rifles but a beam of sickly yellow light forming a straight line from the window of one building across the street they were currently crossing.

Giving its position away by this the xeno, which was using the weapon, found itself under a concentrated salvo of lasbeams, which tore on the concrete it was using as cover and making black pockmarks all over it.

As the twenty storm troopers who were fanned out behind the shield wall send a second volley at its enormous head a lasgun found its mark and a small explosion of yellow gore could be seen as the heat vaporized the top of its ugly head completely.

But this wasn't the reason why Heinrich felt like puking:

Before the damned existence of the xeno had meet its end the beam had greedily eaten itself through the shield of its target, the nearly indestructible material giving away and deforming like plastic hold over a hot flame.

In its blackened and twisted state it was no defence for its unfortunate bearer anymore and Heinrich felt the bile rising in his throat as he looked at the charred mess that had once been the chest of Adam, his close friendship to John May had made him a trouble case a year ago but under the watchful eyes and prayers of the sisters the schola had formed an admirable arbites candidate out of him.

Now his unmoving body was lying on a empty street, its ribcage melted away through the armour and steam rising up from the still smoking wound, at least he was dead immediately: no one survived having their hearth and the surrounding flesh charred and burned away.

But then he had no time to contemplate it anymore, then as soon as Adam had fallen the remaining handful of xenos had concentrated their fire on the breach in their wall, sending their bullets against the four now unshielded PDF troopers, who feel down with mass accelerated projectiles the size of a grain either tearing large gashes into their arms and legs, or simply exiting their head at one side to exit it at the opposite.

Only one of them was able to stagger behind cover as the arbites closed their ranks again without a scratch on his body, but with a large bruise underneath his chest, where the armour plate sewn into his uniform was able to stop the shot.

Heinrich thanked the Emperor for being unable to look behind now, unsure if he could endure watching even more death man and red blood, so he trained his eyes on the enemy again his lips now wordlessly moving as he sang praise to the Emperor and prayed for his arbites to die in His service as he sees fit.

Spotting a movement in front of him he pressed the trigger nearly automatically and was rewarded with a loud shriek as another insectoid xeno was thrown backwards just as some kind of wings had opened on its back, half of its upper body torn away by the metal wedges of the Lieberschaft before it could even leave the ground.

His eyes already searching for the next target Heinrich paused in surprise as he nearly walked against a crate and his eyes widened as he saw the target area in front of him!

Shouting into his his com link he ordered:

**"Open your ranks! Time to let the PDF lead the charge forward!",**

Heinrichs lips curled up into a small smile, thankful for the helmet covering all of his face, he wouldn't want anyone to see his sweat drenched face right now.

Taking a step backwards and resting his shield on the floor again Heinrich allowed himself a glance along the line of his arbites:

Except Adam all of them were more or less standing, some seemed to have freshly closed wounds on their right arm or feet and ankles, but else wise they were fine.

Turning back to face the newly reached cover he saw the troopers of the first company run past his arbiters, most of them clutching an Avenger in their arms as they scrambled out of the safety the shields offered and threw themselves behind the next viable cover.

For a moment Heinrich scoffed lightly at that display, he and his fellow arbites alone had just annihilated a enemy force four times bigger than they were….even if the PDF and storm troopers had given some fire from time to time…there was no need to…

His thought came to a halt as he spotted something moving on the roofs above them:

The clustered area of available cover was maybe twenty meter wide and was the border of the small square left free in front of the scholas gates as a approach for aircars and directly where it ended began the house façade of pre-fabricated colony blocks.

It was on the flat top of the two buildings which flanked the side street they had to take, where he spotted ugly big xeno heads and as he watched even more of them seemed to fly on it, simply landing on the edge and turning their weapons down on them.

"**The enemy is above! Shields up!", **

He barely got to cry before the insectoids started to pepper their position, thuds announcing that his arbites were fast enough to get their shields up, but human cries of pain also announcing that some bullets must have been aimed at the PDF infantry platoon.

"**Ok, we will march forward and see if we can get the PDF to the…",**

The rest of his words were drowned in the sudden blaring and screeching sound which seemed to fill his ears as not one but a dozen of the sickly yellow beams soared through the air and hit polycrystalline-composite shields in a show of sparks and heat, as the material screamed loudly in torture and withered down, heating the handles up to heat of a cooking stove.

The safety controls on his left arm were starting to blink in a warning red and while the first company tried to pick off the heavily armed xenos a large group of their standard troops they had already fought had joined them not only on the roof but also in the three floors beneath.

The ensuring fire fight simply left them not the chance to concentrate on getting the pressure of their shields, even if three beams were already silenced by the trained marksmanship of the storm troopers, whose lasguns were spitting short orange beams every few moments.

Taking a quick glance at his shield, which was nearly burned through and only got a small break because the xeno aiming at it had been hit by a lasbeam in the chest and fallen off the roof, landing on the floor with a satisfying splattering of gore and crushing of exoskeleton on concrete, Heinrich opened his com bead:

"**Everyone throw your shields away and get cover!"**,

He ordered, before doing it himself and throwing his body behind a crate which was littering the ground together with dozens of its fellows, the burning wrack of a transporter showing that civilian designs simply aren't that suited to withstand small arms fire.

A swift glance towards each side showed him that expect of him only ten others in heavy armour were kneeling behind crates, their hydraulics useless for now, except helping them to steady the M-22 with both hands even more easily.

Stopping himself from further glances he simply noted the unmoving limbs looking out from behind cover or blackened and broken shields which covered them partly, gesturing for Damian to take care of them and for everyone else to follow him.

Swinging himself over the low cover before him, Heinrich felt something glance over his shoulder pad and he flung himself behind the next crate he saw, keeping his head down as enemy rifles aimed at his position and were trying to pin him down only for some PDF troopers to peek out and empty their heat sinks into the direction of the xenos, resulting in at least one high pitched chattering scream, before they themselves had to hit the ground in their long coats again.

Aiming his shotgun upwards he also send out his three thundering shots to join the general staccato of assault riffles peppering each others position, listening in approval as the sharp crack of ionized air lasguns left behind, brook into the ambient noise of mass accelerated slugs and loudly booming hand grenades which flew into the windows of the first and second floor of the right building already.

Looking into the round of his arbites who had closed up to him and were now waiting for new orders he raised his gun and pointed towards the left building, were half of the first platoon was struggling to break through, their attacks against the doors being thrown back by concentrated enemy fire.

"**As long as the enemy is holding the house fronts and our shields are neutralized we can't get the rest of the company across the plaza: without cover they will be mincemeat and their death shall serve no purpose."**

Taking a small breath he leaned over and took a look at the situation: first company was divided and attacking at the doors of both houses and while he had seen some soldiers rush through into the right apartment complex, he couldn't say the same about the left one….

"**We are going to enforce the troopers at the left side of the street; we shall pray to the Emperor that Lt. Maier can get through at the other side before the xenos fly in even more of their damned kind."**

* * *

Jeanette Maier meanwhile was shrieking in near panic as she stepped into another room and six baleful eyes glared at her not even two meters away from her as those claw like hand tried to turn their organic looking weapon with it's razor sharp teeth around.

To bad for the Collector that Lt. Maier was fielding her own weapon with teeth honed down and coated with diamonds until it paralleled a monomolecular blade in its sharpness….while staying delightfully cheap.

But this didn't change anything as Jeanette's trembling hand pulled down on the trigger attached under the hand guard and the engine inside the handle jumped into action:

Dozens of sharp hungry teeth started to buzz loudly, running along the swords body and letting it vibrate in the woman's hand.

Baring her teeth as she let the training Sister Marie had given her take over, Jeanette let out a war cry and the chainword whirred through the air as she lunged forward with it, slashing it onto the xenos left shoulder and neck.

The engine of the sword soared in loudness as the razor sharp teeth bit into the brown carapace and broke through it nearly effortlessly, tearing out large chunks and sending them spraying out of the large gash it tore, yellow blood and flesh joining the shower and covering the coat of the geography teacher, turned Lieutenant, with its bile mixture.

Raising her leg and giving the wriggling xeno a strong kick with her boots, Jeanette swung the sword downwards and into the large bulbous head of the insectoid.

Its rifle long since forgotten and lying far away, the xeno futilely tried to rise its right arm, the left only hanging on its torso only through pieces of carapace across its waist, which were dangling grotesquely through fibres of organic origin and metallic tubes and wires.

But Jeanette only had hateful eyes for the beast whose kind had gotten two of her men as they stormed through the corridors, their hard claws mauling them downright.

With the teeth only not running along the back of the weapon, even a stab with it proved lethal: the frontal teeth digging a bloody tunnel into the flesh of the collector drone, which was only used and widened as the rest of the blade followed and the great head was nearly split in too as its flesh was mangled and thrown out of it's usual surroundings, finding itself on floors and walls.

As she looked up from her now thoroughly shredded enemy and took the rest of the room in:

Behind them the stairs lead back towards the ground floor, from which the other two squads of her platoon were slowly moving in, followed by the heavy weapon squad and one of storm troopers who were forming the rearguard.

Her command squad, or rather: what was left for it after she used it to fill the holes in the other squads of her company, including her, the vox operator and one flamethrower, was starting to push through the first staircase, trying to get up the roof and stop the enemy from reinforcing, while trying to give some shoots through the side of the building to help the second part of her company to clear the forefront of the buildings.

Looking to her side she saw Sergeant Smith of her first storm trooper squad standing next to another xeno corpse, which had sunken along the wall and left an ugly stain on the prefabricated grey, holding his lasguns cradled in both arms, the long sword bayonet on its tip dripping yellow ichor.

Giving him a curt nod she walked towards the vox-Operator, a greying shop clerk who was clutching M-12 Locust in his hands and trying to appear composed and calm, even while his eyes looked down at the death xenos nervously from time to time.

"New Vox Reports?",

She said with a cool tone, trying her best to stay composed, while feeling like puking out of the window herself. But she didn't try it for two reasons:

First of all it simply came down to being inappropriate for the conduct of an officer, if even a shop clerk can project a calm facade she wouldn't stand behind his performance and of course there was still the issue of enemy fighters outside, she wouldn't want to get her head shoot of only because she had to puke.

"Yes Mis….uhmmm Ma'am", he corrected himself quickly, not yet having really taken to the quasi military structures of the PDF, but who could do this in less than an hour?

"We have got a message from the schola saying that the other companies are starting to cross the plaza, as we got the house front cleared enough, but they would…prefer that we take the roofs."

Giving him a light nod she waved for Smith to come closer.

The storm trooper left two of his squad members at the door to the stairs leading upwards, before striding through the room to meet Jeanette.

"Yes lieutenant?", he asked a bit respectfully, under the armour and mask Jeanette found it hard to recognize one of her students, especially one from which she knew that he once strived to become an artist.

She closed her eyes and pointed towards the stairs,

"Can you and your people get a look at the next floor?",

Not really waiting for an answer, knowing full well that she could have just as well asked for them to jump out of the window….they would do it anyway.

Pressing her two fingers against her ear and tapping the com-bead to get a connection to the other two squads.

"Sergeant Alexander? Do you hear me?",

She said while glancing at the storm troopers who were getting into position next to the door frame.

"Lieutenant? I can hear you, we are trying to advance through the fire exit, but the xenos have taken position at its top and we already lost Tom and Evans when we tried to storm it.",

Came the frantic reply, shoots filling the background noise before a loud bang indicated that someone had gotten enough and thrown a grenade, but with the shoots continuing it was hard to hear who was hit.

"Understood sergeant, try either finding away around it or wait till me and the storm troopers will get around their fortification.",

Maier ordered curtly before turning toward the door frame again and nodding at her command squad's flamethrower and gesturing towards the already ready storm troopers.

Hernan Vasquez didn't need anymore orders: standing at 1,8 meters he wasn't one of the tallest but also not one of the shortest troopers.

The work at one of Cyrenes Docks had really qualified him for the job: his arms and legs were used to hard work and the heavy flamethrower he was carrying in both arms wasn't encumbering him as badly as it would have a weaker man.

With the **flamae spiritionem, **or flasp as the PDF had taken to call their weapon after barely an hour together with it, being a short to medium range weapon one could have expected that Vasquez would take the position as point man in quarters which confined the fighting to spaces which were perfectly in the range of his fire.

Sadly there are two things about fire, which didn't change with a few millennia of experience regarding flamers: one is the smoke which would quickly take away ones sight and the air to breath, not the best idea in a tightly roomed office building, and the other thing was the simple expanding all devouring nature of flames when set loose.

Which of course only lead to Vasquez taking the second place in the advancing unit as the three storm troopers who formed the point of the formation opened fire into the stair case, a frag grenade flying through the air and exploding at the next door frame and sending splinters raining around, while grey dust seemed to fill the air leading to Lt. Maier coughing lightly as her eyes moistened and she watched Sergeant Alexander charge into the dust cloud without any hesitation as the two other storm troopers joined him with fixed bayonets.

With a quick glance to her side she raised her sword and followed them, one hand closed around the grip of her sword, the other one clutching her pistol as she jumped up the stairs, her lips thinning as she heard the sound of combat from in the cloud, the discharge of a lasguns ionizing the air with a sharp crack, following by high pitched trill and the sound of a small explosion caused by vaporized water…most likely in a body.

Forcing her eyes to stay open her strides quickly got her into the cloud, dust starting to cling to her face and hair as she tried to hold her breath as schemes became visible outside the dust.

Seeing an inhumanly big head leaning out of an doorframe she quickly snapped a shot at it, the heavy laspistol in her left spitting its deadly beam without any sort of recoil, tearing a faint hole into the settling dust for a few seconds, until it closed again.

Grinning grimly she heard the drawn out trill as the beam carved its way into the xenos head, exploding in a shower of yellow drenched brain matter as it sunk backwards into the room again, pieces of its exoskeleton sticking to the softer materials in the floor.

Rushing forward Jeanette reached the three storm troopers who were doing their best with rifles which should have been far too long to be any use in close combat, their sword bayonets only giving them an even bothering tip.

But this proved to be just the edge they needed: working together they were making good progress, taking cover behind turned over chairs and tables as they rushed into a big lobby which went up the last two floors to the roof, keeping carefully to cover and wall as they send out orange beams of death which killed most of the xenos outright when their flesh vaporized, the steam carrying wires and cybernetic implants with it and tearing even bigger holes into the already open wounds: creating large bloody holes were the lasguns would have cauterized them normally.

Quick on their steps Jeanette saw a xeno jumping on them from its cover, firing its submachine gun at the storm trooper sergeant, collapsing his shield and then throwing its gun to the side as the revoltingly organic weapon refused to fire and hissed hot steam instead.

Letting out an angry high pitched chirping sound it charged at the grey clad trooper, raising its claws with strength far above the possibilities of mere humans.

But it didn't get two steps before it stopped with shock and disbelief in its rather unintelligent eyes, a short sizzling could be heard as Sergeant Alexander looked into its six eyes with his mask and helmet betraying no emotion as he steadied his lasguns with both hand, its under slung bayonet sticking in the xenos chest down to its hilt, while the end seemed to gleam on the back of it.

Pulling his finger the hot barrel spit another beam, cutting right through the xeno and boiling its innards as its torso….exploded for a lack of a better description: arms and head, parting from the legs as the middle simply…ceased to exist in its wholeness and turned into a showed of yellow pits and pieces.

This time Jeanette couldn't help herself she nearly toppled over and barely stood on her feet as she leaned forward and vomited sour tasting bile as she stood there and breathed heavily, tears collecting in the corners of her eyes as she took another look at the scene.

It wasn't the mutilated corpse on the ground, its forms were just to alien to care even thought they were invaders and would have gladly killed them: honest to herself Jeanette had to say she was rather glad the lasguns….right now she simply didn't want to think of the consequences it would have to bring DEW up in the galaxy… got it first.

The thing making her ill was the way Mathew Alexander was standing, he wasn't looking down at himself in disgust, not in hate at the corpse: he was simply standing there and looking up to her as if waiting for the next order, even while yellow fluids ran down the sides of his helmet and bits and pieces were sticking to the front of his armour, dripping heavily on the ground from time to time.

Her eyes tracing over him she couldn't help but turn to the side again, her sword lying on the floor discarded as she hold her belly already with her right hand and was only able to puke out saliva and water she had just drunk to get the taste from before away.

A quick side-glance showed the Sergeant…

"_Now…he's Mathew….just a boy…he shouldn't be here….he's only….Emperor….how did I ever agree to…how could I think of him as…",_

Her thoughts were interrupted as a heavy hand touched her shoulder and she quickly tried to stand straight again, even while she could feel strains of her dark blonde hair clinging to her sickly pale and sweaty cheeks.

"Lieutenant? Lieutenant careful!",

A deep voice first asked and then called out frantically as another wave of nausea reached her and she nearly stumbled while trying to fight it down.

Grabbing an offered arm Jeanette got back to balance and suddenly found something pushed into her hands. Closing them reflexively she felt hard alloy and glimpsed down to see her helmet with the enlarged officer visor.

"You lost this in the staircase Lt.",

Hernan said with a wry grin, trying to ignore the awkwardness as his gaze met her shaken look. Instead he patted his flasp and pointed backwards at the corridor they had just traversed, two of the office doors lining it flickering orange and red while black smoke lazily floated out of them.

"Good that the office building is rather fireproof ma'am, the bug you got had some more friends waiting in that rooms.",

Even if his voice was gruff and not really used to consoling anyone….his words snapped her attention back to the here and now, away from…

…_.the curious and lively boy Mathew had been, always asking questions and wanting to know more about plants and animals on different planets…._

…dark thoughts which seemed to have taken their turn in assaulting her mind.

Taking small breaths she steadied herself and reached down for her sword, taking it gingerly and turning to face the lobby again where the remaining storm troopers had closed the lines with their comrades and were crouching behind sturdy but smoothly designed tables and desks, their lasguns lying readily on top of them as she walked over to Alexander, keeping her form down as the vox-operator shook his head lightly at one of her glances.

"We need to get to the other end of the room, you will take half of your squad and trooper Vasquaz.",

She pressed out silently as she pointed towards the ramp leading up to the next floor, standing in a recess across the lobby. Sergeant Alexander gave her a cut nod and his hands were already moving in a flash of hand signs as four of the storm troopers got into position to sprint from their cover.

"Then we have to take those two bridges…",

She continued her illness still there when she looked at Alexander, but Vasquez comment had pulled her back into reality: where the children were on the battlefield and now she had to try keeping them alive. Mathew didn't seem to notice her blight, but of course she could only see the mask which covered his face right now, one way or another she leaned forward and pointed at the two bridges crossing the lobby above them and connecting the two sides of the second floor.

"After we secured them the way to the roof will be open over the last set of stairs and then you and your marksman will get to shoot some xenos out of the air."

Waiting for an affirmative nod from the storm troopers, Jeanette turned her head lightly to look at Vasquez

"And you trooper…will take your flamethrower and our vox-operator though that door.",

She ordered with a point at the set of door leading into another corridor , only that from behind it the sound of weapon fire was still waging hotly between accelerated metal grains and lasbeams of storm troopers who were still trying to make a way for the other half of the platoon.

Nodding in understanding Vasquez touched the operators arm and both of them slowly leaned towards the side, ready to bolt at a moments notice.

Looking over her ready detachment, a bit more than one squad at least, she switched her pistol into the right hand and aimed it upwards towards the still seemingly deserted gallery of the stairs above.

Giving Alexander a small nod, the storm trooper Sergeant jumped out of his cover and started to sprint across the only slightly clustered room, but before he even had to round the first obstacle, ugly brown heads appeared behind the balustrade, followed by claws carrying vicious looking organic riffles which started to open fire without any further warning for the runners, than the flickering of the barriers as the first storm troopers who had followed their sergeant were hit and forced into cover as they scrambled around to get to fire back at them.

Seeing the four troopers pinned down, Lt. Maier leaned down of her cover and squeezed the trigger twice, two beams of light lashing out at the most exposed xeno, who had to time to duck and was thrown backwards as both shots tore huge chunks of armour and flesh out, making him an better aim for the other half of the storm troopers who had taken to lay an suppressive fire of kind at the xenos…..only that they didn't care much about looses at all and still had the far faster shooting weapons.

Sinking back into cover after firing the third shot, Jeanette hold the pistol annoyed as its six side barrels spit hot air, which burned her skin ever so slightly through her gloves.

Closing her eyes she recalled the enemy, counting twelve of them, seemingly all armed with pretty standard weaponry and no beams;

Two of them were on each bridge and the other eight were standing on the balustrades one floor above, either right on top of them or across the room.

The storm troopers around her were keeping up bravely and shot like this was a training exercise, but thanks to their position they were only able to shoot at the enemies across and on the bridges and with a sinking feeling she saw the first barrier break and one of the storm troopers who were pinned down in the middle earned a whole magazine in the back and fell over like a brick.

Feeling desperation rising in her as she saw a troop…no one of her students, fall down: most likely dead, Jeanette switched weapons again and raised her sword over her head as she yelled

"**FOR THE EMPEROR"**

And leaped over the cover with the chainsword roaring over her head as she sprinted towards the ramp, her hope being that she could lead the xenos to fire on her instead off…

With a blue flicker the barrier came to life and stopped a bullet just next to her head as she paled and wanted to stop, but the adrenaline was pumping into her blood and Jeanette came past the pinned down troopers who were now able to reply to the enemy fire with less concentration on themselves, picking off the xenos with precision coming from long training and the use of a totally recoilless weapon: they only had to line up the iron sight and pull the trigger.

As fast as her long boots could carry her, Jeanette rushed through the room: keeping away from the already suck three remaining storm troopers she dived from whatever spars cover she could find to the next, her eyes set on the ramp leading upwards.

But a bit more than halfway through the room her barrier died down with an alarming beeping from her controls and she was swept of her feet as multiple bullets tore through her right thigh.

Letting out a strangled gasp she fell face first on the floor, her sword deactivating as she lost her grip on the trigger….else wise it could have possibly wounded non other than her gravely on the way down.

Struggling to stand up, she couldn't quite feel her leg anymore and bite her lips until she drawled blood as she could feel it again: her whole leg seemed to refuse to obey to her, but she felt the soaked fabric of her pants clinging to her skin just as hot as the blood which was pouring them was.

Closing her eyes she thought:

"Ohh Emperor…please….don't let me die here….Merciful Lord…..watch over me….please..."

Her eyes started to fill with tears and she didn't even notice that the weapon fire around her seemed to her stopped; maybe it was her ears she thought, giving up on her, when she would bleed out on this cold and dusty floor.

But as a hand….a hand with five digits...not with carapace claws settled on her shoulder and she heard multiple voices crying:

"Lieutenant Maier…Lieutenant!",

Jeanette let out a low groan as she felt someone tear the fabric of her thigh and she bite her lips as it let to a new burning spring from the wounds, as someone seemed to finally jam a syringe with narcotics into her….or most likely just a form of very thick medi-gel.

No matter what is was, for her only the cooling sensation which spread over her torn thigh counted and she soon found herself blissfully light headed as whatever chemical she had just gotten blunted her pain receptors….and other senses most likely too.

Feeling two arms under her armpits she found herself finally settled first on her back and then she could weakly sit up, only to find herself starting into the relieved faces of more then twenty PDF troopers, most of them seeming slightly….singed?

Her gaze fall on Vasquez, who had swapped his Promethium tank at least twice from the empty small canisters hanging on his bandolier, stopping confused before she finally noticed a small difference: he was missing his eyebrows and the front of his face was covered with black sooth under which he smiled lightly and saluted as he noticed her look.

Then the whole situation caught back up to her and she stared at them in horror:

"What are you still doing here you dimwits? You need to be on the roof the cover the second and third platoon!",

Jeanette shrieked and tried to hurl herself up, only to fall sideways and being barely caught by another trooper. Looking down at her mutinous leg her the young teachers face started to take a green tint as she looked at the open thorn mess her leg had become: the entrance rounds were rather small thankfully, but that only worsened the torn flesh she saw on the sides of her leg, burned and thorn away by rounds which moved far to fast to be slowed down by mere flesh and had caused bigger exit wounds on their way out.

Nausea reached her head as she imagined seeing something white glitter in the mess which her thigh had once been, not daring to guess just how many bullets that had been.

But having nothing in her stomach anyway, she quickly regained some of her control and gestured to two troopers and let them lift her up as she grabbed for her sword and pointed it forward.

"To the roof!"

A cheer went through the troopers as they couldn't help but grin at the scene she was giving them and more like a mini-parade than alert formation they carried her upwards on the first ramp, past storm troopers who watched it without showing much emotions and simply feel in step with the crowd, forming a frontal guard for them.

Looking down her "seat", Jenette looked a the xeno who should have been her dead….and were now lying around blasted in pieces, most of them obviously shot by lasguns….but from the rest three were only yellow bits and pieces left behind by a frag grenade,

While the fourth thing was sunken against a desk table with an open bayonet wound between its eyes.

Having a faint idea her blue eyes searched for Mathew and she found him standing next to the stairs leading to the roofs, he and his storm troopers ready to repel any possible attack….or charge outside on her signal.

Which she gave him with a small thankful nod…after all with half of the squad on the side of the wall and four pinned down in the middle, that only left one storm trooper who could have smashed into the enemies flank….and saved her life by this.

Seeing the way the crowd was taking the lasguns snapped back into a ready pose as the storm troopers walked towards the last stairs leading directly onto the roof;

Throwing a pair of grenades everyone scattered, except the two troopers who carried the wounded Lieutenant, and pointed they rifles at the stairs.

The loud explosions of the grenades rumbled through the ceiling but nothing came down and no shrill trills of pain reached their ears.

Tentatively two storm troopers ran towards the top of the stairs and threw themselves flat on top as fast as they could, scanning the roof for any xenos.

But they spotted non and after Sergeant Alexander himself and then the rest of the platoon had emerged out of the building and taken a look at the empty rooftop, Jeanette was finally carried up and took a deep breath of the first air which wasn't filled with dust or smoke….or was rather better filtered in the huge dome than a small building could ever compare with.

A movement on the roof across the street pulled her attention to it: from a similar build office building two dozen xenos seemed to pour out of the staircase and while her own troopers were already throwing themselves on their bellies and taking aim, those insectoids showed no intention to fire at them!

Indeed it looked more like they were trying fly away from…

All other observations came to a stop as a loud thundering explosion threw those who weren't already on their bellies on their back, their weapons sliding to the side.

Gulping softly Jeanette forced herself to crawl towards the edge of the roof, her leg starting to hurt dully as she finally peered at the other building:

The xenos already in mid flight,

The xenos scrambling over the roof,

The roof itself:

Were not anymore.

The roof had, for a lack of a better word: disintegrated.

Lieutenant Maier wasn't even sure she could see any pieces of it larger than a chunk of concrete the size of her palm, which was lying near here, carried over the street by the explosion. Just as she wondered whatever happened a figure emerged from the blackened ruins of the top floor and looked around, until it finally spotted her and saluted sharply.

The sun of Cyrene let the silver Aquila on the peaked cap of figure shine brightly against the light of the sun, whose highest stand was slowly coming around.

"What did could the commissar possibly have done…",

She heard from next to her and couldn't agree anymore with the astonishment in that voice; the xenos didn't run…like they had obviously tried to and she could swear on the Emperor that she hadn't seen any heavy explosives being given out when they marched out of the schola.

But: and this was no small matter: they had accomplished their objectives.

This at first seemed like the most important thing but then her gaze swept back to the troopers around her: twenty four of the thirty three which had entered this house in two squads of PDF troopers and one of storm troopers.

While the loose of the one Progena might hurt her more than that of men and women she had hardly know till now, she knew that it was her job to try keeping them alive….and only six out of ten had survived in both squads.

"Forward!", a load voice suddenly shouted below her and as she looked down in the side street her spirits rose: the second and third platoon were starting to move past the chokepoint of the two buildings her platoon had secured, regimental flag raised proudly in their midst as they fanned out and one hundred and seventy troopers swarmed out into the side street, which measured a little more than twenty one meters from side to side, designed to give place to even the biggest cargo transporter.

Her eyes lying on the thin black line of storm troopers which formed the rear guard Jeanette found her lips curling up as she remembered the performance Alexander and his squad had given: she might feel disgusted by the way these innocent children were used as…child soldiers….but she had to be honest and say that she felt far more secure of victory or better: survival, with them leading the attack.

Just as she waved a trooper closer to pick her up again she caught something at the edge of her vision and turned towards it, looking at the corner of the street and recoiled back:

There was… something… standing at the corner and slowly turning to face the street and if it wouldn't be getting kind of repetitive right now, Jeanette would love to loose everything in her stomach again.

That thing was grey skinned and resembled in its build a human being; it was close enough to send a cold shiver down the Lieutenants spine as she thought it might just have been one before the xenos did something….twisted with it.

From her position on the roof she couldn't see much, but it was obvious that the creature was a strange blend of organics and cybernetics: bright blue tubes and wires sticking out against the grey skin as it finished turning and death eyes regarded the advancing two companies for a moment.

In the next the head was blown of cleanly by a lasguns shot the storm trooper skirmishing line had sent out.

Slowly pushing herself up, grateful for some subtle help two troopers gave her, she already tried to turn on her healthy leg, wanting to lead an advance over the roof tops and along the other platoons route as a choir of moans drifted up to her.

With a cold shiver running down her spine she looked down at the street and just saw the bright orange beams of lasguns lashing out and striking foes down easily.

But each foe fell back only to be trampled, trampled by the moaning and crying horde which started to run towards the companies on the street, while Jeanette could only stare at it in mute horror.

* * *

To the Readers:

* * *

PredatorPuck: Thank you, I had already feared I alienated all of you with its slowness~

Lovin it: Funny, you don't happen to know Max Weber and his theories on Charisma?

ChaosTheVoid: You just saw the first step... of maybe 4 or 5

Shashenka: Ohhhh...we will see~

LordGhostStriker: Cyrene

KhazintheDark: I have no idea how you got on that assumption...but if you might have noticed: collectors stay dead after being shot...and seek cover and can sprint...

Jouaint: Thanks~

douchiesnacks: Thank you too

FenrisulfrWotanbane: Something in that direction and feel free to write down your ideas, I usually wait with writing a new chapter until the last has gotten some views and comments

OBSERVER01: See the might flasp then~

Guest: Hopefully I don't fall short of your expectations.

DeusImperator: You are always welcome~

Commissar Critical: Even so I hope that the Commissariat approves of the Junior Commissars, who obviously will get more attention in future chapters, its only questionable how they shall reach the rank of Commissar without a senior Commissar around~

Qinetiq: Ohhh? Might I ask what in particular was intriguing?

Barbaras Sephtis: Will they have much choice?

Wargamer08: Thank you but...please don't compare my story to "The Mission Stays the Same", its very embarrassing for me and I don't think I could ever dare to be more than a small shade compared to it, but I still see what you wanted to say so again: Thank you~


	11. Hold the Line

**"Zombies? That's too 21st century!"**,

Hailey cried out and raised her left arm, a lasbeam shooting out of her pistol with the cracking sound of ionized air as it rushed towards those sickly grey lines and hit one of the stumbling abominations in the chest, throwing it backwards as the small explosion of heat vaporized its chest, chunks of flesh and machinery molten together, erupting as it fell backwards and was trampled by the following ranks without hesitation.

She might have not had the most original battle cry, but something simply sticks to your mind after needing to go through the whole film database which was available to the schola, just for clearing it out of "pro-psyker" propaganda.

Squeezing off the next shot, she could grin satisfied as all storm troopers sent a salvo towards the onrushing enemy, all forty lasbeams hitting…something in that hoard and quickly sending it flying black in an explosion of hot vapour and shrapnel like mechanical parts which burrowed into the flesh or whatever counted as this for those things.

As the pistol in her hand hissed from the accrued heat in it, the third shot's crack already lost in the hail of mass effect driven bullets which shot through the street and met the rushing mob of enemies head on, Hailey looked to her side, having heard a loud heaving noise.

Next to her a woman in the PDF uniform was leaning against a burned out car and puking out her guts, with glazed over panic stricken eyes, not minding the rifles which lay next to her, nor her squad mates who had taken cover behind the car and some rubble to protect themselves against enemy fire….which just didn't seem to matter as those abominations seemed to be only armed with their arms and teeth as they steadily shortened the three hundred meters which were between them and the second and third platoon.

With a swift flick of her hand the next heat sink was in her pistol and she took another snap shot at the onrushing enemy, whose pure weight seemed to drive terror into the PDF as their feet thundered over the street and their moaning cries filled the air.

Junior Commissar Satterfield wasn't sure if it was normal for everything to seem so…slow;

She took another step and shot, not even checking what she hit, that she hit was clear, and stepped into the midst of the squad with the panicking trooper, giving them a dark look as some turned around to look at her.

Those seeing the glare quickly turned towards the enemy again and simply held down the trigger: if it wasn't for their number the enemy might even have been repelled by the PDF alone, but as it was they needed close to one heat sink per enemy to bring those things down permanently, even severed limbs not stopping them as some more daring grenades from the roof tops had shown.

Turning towards the now sobbing woman Hailey reached down and grabbed her collar, pulling her upwards at her coat, until a wave of sore smelling vomit assaulted her nose out of the troopers' mouth.

"What do you think you are doing?! For the love of the Emperor, take your gun and smite his enemies if you want to live!",

She shouted at the woman and watched with satisfaction as fear of her seemed to replace fear of the xenos for a moment…..only to relapse as she started to babble:

"Dragon teeth! Like on Eden Prime…..Husks!...they will impale...everyone….turn them into monsters…..no no no!...I don't' want to die! I don't want to….",

The rest of her words were cut off as Hailey used the third shot of her pistol to silence her forever: an orange lasbeam cutting into her skull and boiling brain and flesh alike and letting her head explode in a red cloud of hot vapour and bone splinters.

A sharp gasp could be heard from her left and Hailey raised an eyebrow as she saw the shocked look of the closest trooper who had heard the shot even through the noise of the battle.

"The enemy is still stumbling towards you trooper.",

She said coldly and raised her hand, pointing at the already halfway through…husks?

The name had something and as she stared at the grey skinned husks she slowly started to remember the videos they had seen on the extranet regarding the events on Eden Prime more than two or three years ago: those things might look similar but there were….differences.

As her hands automatically shoved the next heat sink into the laspistol, her eyes fell on her sash and she frowned lightly as her hand reached down and flicked some pink brain issue off the blue fabric.

Good thing that the dark black fabric of her long coat wasn't showing many stains thanks to the weak willed woman's blood, only being a bit damp and darker in spaces, but it wasn't anything that a good wash wouldn't get out.

Raising her hand and aiming for a moment, her next lasbeam cut right through the light armour of a husk, which had already reached the car she has standing behind, letting it crumble backwards minus its head.

Shoving her pistol back in its holster, Hailey reached for her sword, pulling it off her hip and letting it roar fiercely as she stepped around the car holding its spinning teeth up while blowing in a small whistle she kept around her neck.

The sharp trilling cut through the already lessening fire, PDF troopers pulling back while firing as the husks closed up, and the forty storm troopers who had accompanied the two

Platoons till now started to form a rough line across the street, each squad headed by one of the commissars who were available.

Speaking into her com-bead and informing the other commissars, Hailey started to lead her squad backwards and ordered them to form a line which locked up with the rest of their comrades.

Remaining in front of them, she glanced at the still incoming wave of husks with mild detachment, trying to concentrate herself on the lessons Sister Marie had given her.

The storm troopers had meanwhile formed a double line from one end of the street to the other, their lasguns currently silent and slung over their shoulder.

Standing offset with both lines showing gaps where troopers of the other line would stand, they were already reaching for their bandoliers when the order:

**"Grenades!"**

, barked out four young commissarial throats.

At an earlier point the troops of the first platoon were still pouring fire into the ranks of the husks from the sides of the buildings which were flanking the side, but right now a look upwards would show a grizzly exchange between orange lasbeams and whining mass effect rifles, sometimes accented by a sickly yellow beam from the xenos heavy weapon.

But as long as the rooftops were still in Imperial hands, the troopers in the streets would be safe from enemy fire trying to diminish their line before the abominations rushed through it.

As the order resounded along the line, by voice and by com bead, forty hands grabbed their first frag-grenade, forty feet moved forward as they took throwing position, forty arms stretched out like the tense arm of a catapult and forty bodies shifted to aim their throw upwards.

Forty grunts accompanied the fist-sized objects as they were thrown in perfect arches and the cylindrical package of explosives in their snugly ceramic packing were sailing over the first ranks of the enemy and exploding between fifty to eighty meters away from their line.

Some of the grenades hit one of the many bodies forming the enemy wave, others slipped past them and touched the ground, but all of them exploded not more than a second after reaching their aim, bright flashes sweeping through the horde of husks as the explosive cores ignited and tore the ceramic casing into splinters, which now carried by the force of the explosion became deadly shrapnel which tore through one or two of the husks without much effort.

From one moment to another the tightly packet mob of husks was swept away in spots; were dozens of the collector's cannon fodder was running and moaning a moment ago a carpet of broken bodies and severed body parts, mixed with fluid soaked wires and metal parts, was littering the floor.

Spread from the first rows to the middle of the mob, the detonations had levelled the field so to speak: only a few husks escaping unharmed, even while the majority of those who weren't hit by the direct explosion seemed to have survived most shrapnel damage, even if the rest of their grey flesh and sometimes even whole limbs, were hanging on a few sinews and wires as they dragged themselves forward, moaning and groaning just like before as they slowly gained pace again.

Seeing the surviving enemies continue on, Hailey raised her sword over her head and shouted

**"Fix bayonets!"**

With economic, endlessly trained and remembered movements the storm troopers took the lasguns at the barrel with their left hand and let it slide downwards until its stock hit the ground with a resonating thud.

Reaching for their hips, each of them pulled the fifty-five centimetre long sword bayonets from their scabbard and brought them up to the muzzles of the gun, letting them slide into a mechanical mounting underneath, where it snapped locked with a loud click.

**"Aim!"**

Forty lasguns were raised in one fluid motion and brought to bear against the onrushing enemy, who was only a few meters away now and already reaching out as they came to bear on the now steel bearing wall of blades.

Even with their thinned ranks the husks still seemed to cover the street like a living carpet, or a wave of bodies which rolled onto the thin steel line, with its bright cuirasses, while the PDF was desperately trying to build a barricade behind them, squads breaking into the neighbouring houses and opening fire into the massed husks from the sides.

Taking a last look at the expressionless masks and the covering helmets, Hailey let her sword swing down to the floor in sync with the three other commissars as they bellowed:

**"Fire!"**

Forty lasbeams were spit out by the thin line which needed to hold, either for everyone else to regroup or to hammer the enemies of the Emperor into dust.

Each shot found its mark,

Forty husks were thrown backwards like dolls with their strings cut as the explosions of heat the lasguns, where they melted away the enemy armour, tore their torsos open, blasted of their heads and limbs or simply threw them backwards as a charred corpse.

_"one…two….three…."_

The soft murmur could be heard as lasguns were shifted, pointed towards the next husks who were struggling past the first fallen wave and stumbling over their dead bodies as the second cascade of orange beam cut a swathe through them.

And so it continued for what seemed like eternity,

But as everyone who carried a clock could tell you it didn't take longer than half a minute as the husks surged forward and each wave was either thrown backwards with vaporized and boiled parts, or got tangled in those who were already covering the floor and were quickly finished off by the pistols of the commissariat.

The dead husks were starting to form an ever growing pile in front of the thin line, cheer erupting from the flanking buildings as PDF troopers leaned out and joined the shooting, even if the majority of them were already on their way to the rooftops, where the more intelligent elements of the enemy were buzzing around and attempting again and again to land.

From the balcony in the second store a flamethrower started to open fire, the burning liquid drenching the husks on the street without stopping them, only turning them into running torches whose wails were now accompanied by the flicker of flames and the smell of burned flesh which clung to the air and made more PDF troopers turn green around their nose.

And even while the flamethrower held its fire more and more of the husks seemed to follow, their mindless charge carried against the lines of the Emperor's soldiers not without effect, as some of them dispensed into the surrounding buildings and their wails hunted the PDF through the Rooms and hallways, where they tore rifles out of hands and arms out of their sockets, before clubbing and biting the troopers to death.

They even nearly threw the first platoon into disarray as they started to claw their way up the walls, which could only be stopped as the second and third platoons, or rather: those squads of them not desperately trying to keep the buildings at the sides clear and not be torn apart at this, divided their fire and started to pepper the walls of the buildings with shots, the grey abominations falling backwards into the writhing and running mass of their brethren.

And as they sent small extensions of their grey murderous current into and against the buildings, the centre of them, their hammer gained the number and momentum as it ran headlong into the line of storm troopers.

**"Charge!"**

As the husks were only a few steps away the line of storm troopers surged forward with fixed bayonets, wanting to meet the charge with their own momentum behind them instead of simply standing there to receive it….that's what shields are for anyway.

Leading the charge from the front Hailey was swinging her chainsword from left to the right, just through the ribcage of the first husk who ran into her reach, the roaring teeth hungrily shredding the mechanically reinforced flesh into halves and sending sparks flying as the sword severed the nearly completely artificial spine of the husk.

The body convulsing against her blade, Satterfield gave it a swift kick, shoving it against the next husk behind it, which stopped stupidly for a moment, only to receive a bayonet in its moaning mouth as the line closed up to Hailey.

As she swung out to either saw or club the next enemy of mankind, Hailey was accompanied by the storm trooper squad, whose longer reach let them be out of the husks reach, who gravitated more towards the commissars exposed position at the front, where they either stroke of the chainsword or were killed by quick economical stabs with the bayonets.

Working in pairs of two the storm troopers were swirling on their feet, a stab against an enemy followed by a swift step back, while their partner covered them and gutted the next abomination which tried to follow into the flexible line.

Covering each other they were able not only to hold their line but even advance it and as they nearly reached the starting position again, Hailey had to smirk as she looked at the car and saw two husks shoved against it as the bayonets in their chest nearly nailed them on the thing; thank the Emperor she didn't decide to stay there.

A grey hand nearly clawing off her nose was enough to snap her back to the immediate happenings, her body having fallen into the automatic movements only hours upon hour of training gives you, already severing the offending arm and opening the husk's neck with a slight touch of the swords tip, black fluids splattering on the ground and the husk behind it as the thing sank to the floor with its head only held by few strains of flesh and wire.

With a grunt she trampled over the corpse, her boots sinking lightly into the soft ground, before she could find a safer hold on the already damp, fluid soaked street, where stumbling over a severed arm or leg could be quite lethal.

For the last few meters the line had mostly fought against the few stragglers and already damaged husks which survived their grenade salvo, who were not that many or dense in their ranks, so the storm troopers didn't receive a serious injury, while only one commissar was now missing a patch from his long coat.

But now the melee began in its earnest, the husks were starting to stand so tightly together that they couldn't even fall over when dying, their corpses getting pushed forward by the advancing horde as the storm troopers had to pull back quickly, their partnership ceasing as it becomes a wild stabbing and clubbing in which everyone had to simply hold his or her place in the line, while the husks did their best to simply run into the wall of bayonets, some even impaling themselves while their arms struggled to grab the storm trooper behind it.

One such action happened in the squad next to hers, which was holding the middle, a husk jumping against the steel tipped line and gutting itself on a sword bayonet, only to start hitting and clawing on the storm troopers helmet, who flinched and stumbled over something on the ground, sending him falling backwards.

The com-bead carried his cries through the whole line as his comrades tried to rescue him and killed the husk on top of him, only the be pressed by the rest of the husks who surged against the distracted squad and forced the other nine members into a desperate fight where the short distance already made the butt of the lasguns the preferred weapon.

Even the sword of their commissar wasn't enough to make room for the fallen storm trooper to stand up again and soon the middle of the line was giving away as the pressure of the enemy grew on them.

The luckless trooper meanwhile was pulled forward, strong cold grey hands closing around his unarmoured legs as teeth and fists clattered against his armour, which was still holding miraculously even if his gasps showed how the force affected him through it.

But the heavy breathing soon turned into high screams as their teeth tore into his legs, artificially reinforced jaws tearing flesh off the bones, while husks began to pull and grab on his feet, the bones letting out a sickly crunch as they broke and sinews tore.

The trooper was getting buried beneath a mass of wriggling husks and his suffering only took an end after both of his legs were torn from his body, leaving him a half mad screaming wreck as the commissar lobbed a grenade into the pile above him, the explosion killing him as well as the closest husks, which gave the line a moment to reform itself, before the next wave of husks crashed against them, forcing them back into melee but now with a grim determination to avenge their comrade and prevent another member of their squad from following him.

Hailey's own senses were soon occupied as the smell of burned flesh filled her nose and she recoiled in disgust as a black charred visage was only centimetres away from her face, the burned flesh hanging only on the wires and the blue cybernetics which hold the infernal abomination together.

Trying to shove it away she bit her lips as it hit against her cuirass and sent her stumbling backwards, a foul smelling imprint left on the smooth metal surface.

She couldn't even swing back at it as another two of the macabre burned husks were closing in on her , their stench burning in her nose as she stabbed the heavy sword at the one to her right, easily tearing the last strips of flesh from its metallic skeleton and lettings it crumble down to the ground.

Along the whole line storm troopers were either yielding their ground or losing their lives as the husks swarmed them, the closeness preventing the long bayonets from being used and as such, some storm troopers had already started using the bayonets as short swords, hacking wieldy around them, knowing that stumbling and being grabbed by this clumsy but unbelievably strong hands would spell doom.

A piercing scream was the only warning that it had happened again and suddenly she found her squad broken in to small groups, husks breaking through their middle and threatening to box each of them in for themselves.

Swinging madly with her sword she tried to get herself some room, shouting

**"Form up at me! Form up!"**

Knowing that the collapse of her squad alone would doom the rest of the line as well she gripped her sword tighter and tried to hold her position, letting the other storm troopers form up to her as soon as they got the time and space to do so.

But it wasn't doing any good; the mass of enemies was already spilling past them, storm troopers being shoved backwards and forward, often more harmlessly than one could expect only thanks to their smooth armour at which the husks couldn't find a place to grab, and even if they did: It wasn't like the storm troopers had space to fall into.

Somehow getting her sword around, most likely thanks to her indiscriminate use of the heavy handle and guard, Hailey was able to turn around and take a step back towards the still intact squad next to hers and saw with dismay that only two storm troopers were able to follow her and build a weak flank element for the rest of the line.

Striking out and tearing through the hip of a husk, letting the flailing thing fall backwards against another of its kind, Satterfield watched the three shapes only a few meters away but already mobbed by the husks; heavy helmets and armours were peeking from it for moments, bayonets slashing around wildly but in the next blink of an eye they were swallowed by the grey float of bodies.

**"Emperor! Emperor!",**

Their pain filled cries came out of the com-bead and the sickly crunch of breaking bones and torn flesh could be heard by the rest of their squad and just as Junior Commissar Hailey wanted to turn it off the last action of those troopers made it unnecessary:

The wriggling mass of husks were torn apart by two closely timed explosions, the first one ripping those right on top one of the unfortunate storm troopers apart and the next sending its shrapnel into the closest husks, tearing them to pieces in some cases, while others simply tore holes into the grey flesh.

For a moment the pressure on Hailey and the two last remaining storm troopers lifted as they surged forward and finished off the few unscratched husks right in front of them, before starting to stab and swing into the half-finished ones who stood a bit further from the explosion.

Even as her feet carried her forward, her heavy boots slipping on the blood covered street and bodies, her heart beating faster as she gained momentum again after endless impressions of defensive holding in a far too tight space, Hailey knew it wasn't going to save them, except from her two still standing storm troopers, they were able to find two wounded ones somewhere in the pile of dead bodies and they were swiftly pulled up and then shoved towards the back…behind their back and towards the friendly lines behind them, whose fire was still divided between so many different targets.

And as the husks closest up to her again, as their empty eyes and blue glowing wires stared at her, a sentence reached her ear through the com-bead and it was as if all saints and angels of the Emperor himself had sung in this moment:

"Heavy weapon squad deployed and ready to fire."

* * *

Thomas was feeling ill.

He was standing behind an open window which let him see the part of the street were the storm troopers…no: kids; were trying to hold the line and dying while doing it.

Kids, he knew most of them, nearly all by name, having taught them for more than a year now and having seen how they had grown more and more solemn in the lessons, while transferring most of their joy towards this very…contact rich ball game the sisters had introduced them to.

In a way it was merciful, that they were wearing heavy armour and masks which covered their faces, it made it easy for everyone to simply think of them just as "storm troopers" instead of "children".

But what else could one do?

If you called them "children", innocent and in need of protection then you simply didn't meet them with that description, maybe till today they were innocent, but that had changed in the bloody baptism of bullets and fire.

And in need of Protection?

As he looked out of the window he scoffed at the mere notion, if someone needed protection than it were his troopers, not the anachronistic…storm troops, there was no better word for them, the missionary and her sisters had turned the kids into something close to a half trained soldier maybe and compared to the untrained PDF….

It all seemed so….harmless might not be the right word, but pretty close to it.

Fencing, riding, laser tag games, those seemed like maybe a bit diverse but still fun way of keeping the kids busy and interested in PE, or at least he would have chosen riding instead of doing gymnastics at any moment as long as he still was in school.

Even now it was still puzzling to him.

How could someone be so advanced that they were able to build DEW, literally out of spare parts and kits with which kids usually grew crystals in school, but at the same time retain things like bayonet drills or sword forms?

If he wouldn`t have been looking at the small massacre below him for the last few minutes he might have regarded it as nothing more than tradition and a small cultural quirk, because there was no chance that those three women were from any part of the Alliance space.

And if you took a look at how well it worked even with those kids who didn`t have much more than a year to train, a time in which you usually barely went through the System Alliances basics training for marines, it made you ask yourself if….no: why there was someone who could either shrug off even the fire of a laser, something he really didn`t want to believe at first, or had like those xenos, so much mindless cannon fodder that he could throw them away in senseless charges.

Turning away from this thoughts he took a glance behind himself, the former office lounge in which he stood long since emptied of all furniture and its floor covered with thin cots where the worst wounded were lying and being scrutinized by the few doctors and nurses the colony had.

Bracing himself he tore his eyes off the street with reluctance and moved a bit deeper into the room, gingerly stepping over those wounded, who had lost consciousness or sight thanks to the vicious strength the thankfully dumb husks used whenever they grabbed onto one of his men or women.

Trying to evade looking down at those torn faces, who were often missing parts from the bridge of their nose, or simply staring into nothing with a clawed out eye socket, the shock of losing both was big enough to have killed everyone till now, Thomas stepped past them and pressed himself against the wall as two orderlies with a stretcher between them carried another victim from the rooftops who had gotten his emergency treatment out of the door and through the hallways back towards the schola at best, the closing fourth and fifth platoons able to give them cover.

As they passed his gaze fell on the body on the stretcher and for a moment he thought he remembered that man, with his frail build and greying hair spreading along his temples.

It was the owner of the little fruit store he visited sometimes, just next to the spaceport and he, so thought Thomas, must have had the devils luck to escape from their in time to reach the schola, as the big ugly lump of a spaceship had landed there.

But even his luck hadn`t been enough: a small glance at the ugly red stump of which had once been his right arm made that rather clear and in passing Thomas could see the bandages with red markings on them: shrapnel pieces still inside of this body beneath.

Gulping lightly he took a steadying breath, through the mouth as using the nose might have resulted with him puking over the sterile surgery tools.

Walking up behind Dr McCloud he watched him throw his freshly used scalpel and the thin forceps he had used just now into a waiting bowl, the water inside starting to turn hot as an elder assistant hurried to the side and put it on a gas burner.

It couldn`t be more than twenty minutes since they left the gates of the schola, one hundred and sixty in the second and third platoons alone.

Right now at least a fourth of the storm troopers were lost, even the PDF was missing a third of their numbers thanks to the fighting in the buildings and even from the number they couldn`t know how many were "merely" wounded.

McCloud seemed to have aged twenty years in those minutes, his eyes seemed to be numbed by horror and his mind seemed to be single minded in the treatment of the wounded and even with their still sufficient supply of medigel he had to rely on tools, which he might have last used and heard about in the theoretical part of his study.

Whatever the xenos were doing: the energy was still down in the whole colony and for reasons which he didn`t know, most likely financial problems, the schola didn`t have any big portable medical facilities.

Seeing the hunched lines around the doctors eyes and the rigid way he held himself when Thomas came around and returned back to the window, unwilling to snap him out of his work, especially as his hands were just guiding his tools into another wound, while his assistant scanned for the metal with his omni-tool and held medigel ready to close the wound behind it.

Slowly working himself back to the window he gave his vox-operator a small nod, calls and messages from squads and platoons were arriving at each moment, some reporting more loses and asking to be exchanged or drawn back, while others informed them of their advance from house to house or only one room to another, needing to secure more hallways and basements with every meter while those things seemed to crawl out of every dark space they passed or simply climbed from one window and floor to the next.

The comm chatter was defying whenever one turned it up and it showed that the PDF had never any chance to train something like discipline in those regards, only worsening it when one squad in the third platoon wanted to warn one of the second platoon because they saw a husk climbing up the walls and towards a window.

The only glimmer of light were the messages from Jeanette's vox-operator, the first platoon seemed to have dug themselves in on the rooftops and from what he heard it was more like trapshooting for them, the flyers having no cover and dropping out of the sky like flies when the ten lasguns found their marks.

But of course things, couldn`t stay positive like this for long;

being called by one of his two aides, John or something, Thomas stepped towards the window and his face frowned in dismay as he saw the thin line of storm troopers breaking on the most right side, the armoured figures being swept away and covered by a squirming grey mass.

Swirling to the side he glared at his aide,

"What`s the status of the heavy weapon teams?!",

He practically shouted as he took his pistol from the holster and tried to calm his helplessness by shooting his three beams into the husks on the street, his face etched in worry as he saw the line faltering and pulling back on the side as more and more husks poured into the breach.

"Captain…sir….they have not finished aligning the barrels yet!"

Sending a scorching glare at his aide he opened his mouth to snap at him but in this moment two grenades erupted on the street and tore a whole into the breach, which the remaining two storm troopers and Hailey…that savagely swinging figure was Satterfield?...used to try pushing the husks back.

But Thomas saw that it wasn`t going to help at all, with three…now five people they wouldn`t be able to hold the line and he already saw a new force of husks holding course towards the breach.

"Order the storm troopers to hold out and say; the heavy weapons team, they have to start firing now or they can take a rifle and join the storm troopers on the street!",

Seeing his wild expression, the aide, John or something, saluted clumsily before running towards the door leading towards the two big balconies on which the weapons team in their building were building up, while the vox-operator tried to reach both of them over their com-beads…otherwise they could simply hope that they would join their squad as soon as they opened fire.

Looking back towards the window Thomas frowned in worry, the thin line was already being flanked through the regained breach and he could only see three of the four commissars peaked caps.

Even now the other three were swinging wildly with their swords and he saw the storm troopers move artfully and determined to unheard orders as the flanking squads folded inwards, forming a rough square in the middle of the street.

His hands clenched on the window frame and his knuckles stood out in white as he leaned forward and tried to get a better look; for now the husks seemed to be single minded in the destruction of the storm troopers but finally a single sentence was carried to him through his vox operator

"Heavy weapon squad deployed and ready to fire."

, which lead to a vengeful grin to appear on his lips as he ordered:

"Fire."

* * *

A bolter is more than simply a weapon.

Throughout the Imperium it is viewed as a weapon of the Emperor's wrath, the righteous instrument of mankind's divinity. Its howling brings death to the foes of humanity and serves as the purest battle hymn there may be for the Emperor.

The hand crafted and richly ornate bolter of an Adeptus Astartes is a treasure in itself, made by the best Artificers of their Chapter or on one of the Adeptus Mechanicus' Forge Worlds themselves.

Unlike its bigger brother a smaller sized boltgun can find its way into mortal hands and be used by an officer of the Imperial guard, but it is not the only bolt weapon which had found its way into the Arsenal of the Emperor's Hammer.

The most widespread, most used, most trusted and most cursed weapon is the heavy bolter, whose carried around by two man squads, were one member is carrying the weapon itself and his mate is carrying ammunition and tripod for it.

It was the same on Cyrene, then unlike its cousins in the hands of the Astartes a heavy bolter is a simple weapon, needing not much more than a fitting barrel to shoot the bolt out of it.

And even if one such bolt is fairly easy to make for every planet which took some steps into industrialization, the whole idea of it was something which must have been discarded by all citadel species since hundreds of years: instead of simply using a slug as ammunition, the mass reactive bolt is a fist sized self-propelled rocket.

One might also call it highly complex, as the casing usually contains a main kick charge which then ignites the rocket fuel which propels the bolt towards its target and above all of course the main explosive charge which will be triggered after the heavy cap on its top penetrated the targets armour.

And in theory even one of the weightiest and mightiest weapons of the Imperium should be stopped by the one thing which had revolutionized warfare for the council races: kinetic barriers.

As it happened the first heavy bolter to open fire was perched right on the ramp leading to the roof and Lt. Satterfield was glaring at the enemy fliers who seemed to zip up and down above them, shooting their weapons in passing, at which she and the two gunners took cover behind the small defensive shields the main body of the bolter had at both sides.

"I want to see them swept out of the sky!",

Jeanette growled and pointed her sword towards the next pass of the incoming swarm, whose fire had proved disastrous for some of the more wide spread PDF troopers, while the real danger were the grenades they threw down like bombs.

Following the gaze of her sword the gunner grabbed the large stock of the weapon with both hands using his rippling muscles to turn it towards the incoming enemy, his head covered by a heavy helmet with a bright red panache running down on it and his own, more grey version of the storm troopers cuirass, even if both gunners only wore the breastplate of it.

His partner gave him thumbs up, grinning himself as he let the ammunition belt with fist sized bolts come out of its portable box, leading it into the side of the bolter, making it ready to fire.

What is usually underestimated is the experience of the colonists on the outer colonies with firearms and the simplicity with which one can actually use the standard parts of mass effect weaponry which is built to be modded extensively.

As such the bolts on Cyrene weren't leaving the barrel under their own power and using their own rocket fuel, rather they were shot by a crudely attached mass effect field, which gave, but didn't give the bolts anywhere near the velocity of a usual slug, enough force to compare it to lesser Imperial heavy bolters.

The waves of flying collectors were led by the more vicious variants with submachine guns and those weapons which shot those sickly yellow beams, while the rest either carried their standard rifle or simply dropped as many grenades as possible onto the PDF troopers.

As they tried to fly another run on the slowly melting ranks of the PDF, which only had sixteen troopers right now on the roof, the gunner centred the big iron sight of the heavy bolter right in their middle and held down the trigger on the back of it.

What followed were a series of sharp cracks as dozens of bolts left the barrel and surged towards the enemy, maybe not as fast as standard ammunition but still far too fast to evade.

Some bolts strayed past the enemy, their rocket fuel only igniting as a timer reached zero and then it was already blown apart together with the main charge as it hit a distant wall anyway, leaving a large scorch mark or even tearing small walls apart.

But the majority of the bolts met the flying drones head-on and in most cases were the drones didn't even use barriers they either penetrated the armour immediately or the rocket fuel inside of the bolts ignited as their speed fell and a small electrical discharge was send into it.

In both cases the bolt tore a fist sized entrance wound into the body of the xeno, but instead of simply exiting on the other end it stopped in the middle of the xeno, who didn't even have the time to trill or chirp anything regarding its wound as the mass reactive trigger ignited the main charge which exploded quite spectacularly:

Loosing fifty percent of their troops from active service is a terrible prize for any military unit, that's even truer for a nearly untrained militia, which consisted out of friends and neighbours and now they were cheering!

Cheering and redoubling their efforts to shoot the xenos as a golden rain went down on them, here and there were some bigger parts which might have once been organs or cybernetic implants, but the bolts had reduced more than half of the enemies' wing into fine meat paste and yellow mist and thus now came down, showering the PDF in a rain more refreshing than any spring cloud could produce.

But the real success was the result when bolts met xenos utilising the kinetic barriers:

At first it seemed to work, the conventional momentum of the bolt was slowed down and the tip of it could be seen glowing hotly as part of the energy was transferred into heat, but again the loss in velocity trigged a reaction: the rocket fuel was ignited.

Unlike the small grain sized slugs the usual weaponry was firing, a bolt remained a fist sized explosive even when brought nearly to a halt and at one or two cruder examples simply exploded at this point unable to withstand the heat of the sudden stop, but even then they still tore a large hole into whatever body part of the enemy was in front of them.

It worked, but the bolter was no grenade launcher: the rest of the "stopped" bolts didn't remain like this for long, the rocket fuel pushed them forward and this time they didn't trigger the barrier, their starting moment was far too slow to trigger the barrier.

As the fuel finally reached its maximum velocity it was already nearly touching the enemies carapace and slammed into it with the full force it could bring to bear after which the mass reactive trigger ignited the charge and another xeno was seemingly blown up from the inside, leaving nothing except for the top of the large skull and a hand or foot in most cases after several hits.

Howling in Triumph Jeanette hit the gunners shoulder friendlily as he held the trigger down and swivelled the gun on its tripod, sending bolt after bolt into the air were they tore the xenos to shreds.

"We got them, we got them! Don't stop shooting until we crushed all of those bugs!",

Lt. Maier turned around a big grin on her face as she saw the shout belonging to Vasquez who had laid his flasp aside and was shooting one of the lasguns into the sky, not that there was much to shoot anymore as the bolter on the other roof opened fire too, filling the air with a hail of bolts which turned the xenos into little pieces on their roof too and for the first time the infantry, or those troopers which were left could scramble towards the border of buildings and start firing down the side into the fray.

Running to the side herself, leaving the bolter and Vasquez behind to cover them from another enemy flyer attack, Jeanette peered over the edge and gasped as she saw the small square in the middle of the street, maybe a bit less than thirty storm troopers standing back to back with their bayonets pointed outwards and thrusting, stabbing and even clubbing against the grey abomination which had once been human corpses.

"Ok guys! Let's show them what the PDF of Cyrene can do!",

She shouted with some false bravado as she pointed her sword downwards and shot her own laspistol at the mass of husks.

The second part of her platoon was mirroring it now from the other side of the roof and they were able to drive a bloody or at least oily wedge of death into the still sizable but already greatly diminished ranks of cannon fodder.

Hailey gasped exhausted as she let the chainsword cut through the air again before it hit its mark and its swirling teeth tore into the husk, sending the moaning and wailing abomination to the side as its torso was disconnected from its legs.

Exhausted maybe, but not broken yet, even more so as a single word from Captain Anderson reached her and the storm troopers in their little improvised square over the com-beads and made them hold their position with savage grins directed at the mindless husks in front of them, this one word was:

**"Fire"**

* * *

A heavy weapon squad had ten troopers in it, two troopers were needed for one heavy bolter, the three platoons who were currently fighting over the street, while the other three were already spreading through the buildings around them, had fifteen heavy bolters in total and only two of them were in use on the rooftops right now.

The other thirteen were now standing on balconies, behind large windows, settled into small fire escape routes; all in all they were spread all along the houses facing and aiming at one direction: right into the street and the mass of husks in it.

The wrath of the Emperor couldn't have been much worse for the husks; they were obliterated.

Hailey and the remaining commissars and storm troopers cheered with newfound morale as the husks were swept aside, the heavy bolters finding no resistance in the little armour those things had, all around them the remaining hundreds of husks ceasing to exist as bolts entered them and then turned them into minced meat.

The bolt guns were slowly swivelled and all PDF troopers could see how the mass of husks was slowly chewed away by weapons whose whole family was designed to bring His wrath onto the enemies of Mankind and to equip the large armies of the Great Crusade.

People thought grenade launchers were terrible? Let them see the heavy bolters!

People thought the turians had the most disciplined military in the galaxy? Let them drop their mandibles when they see the discipline of the Imperial guard!

The confidence of the PDF was rising into new heights, the crushing victory over the husks blinding them from the losses they took, no one might know how long this will work, but the officers had every intention to use it.

Pointing forward Hailey urged the storm troopers forward through the corpse filled street before them, quick bayonet stabs silencing the last moaning husks which had remained half buried under their ilk and had survived the storm of destruction by this.

Slowly the remains of the three platoons were advancing, some officers at the front, others like Thomas were forced to stay in the centre of everything as the three remaining platoons also marched forward, only meeting a token resistance as it seemed and had to be coordinated in their routes towards their mission targets.

They were marching, marching through streets filled with corpses and houses in which even more were resting for now and even if most of them were husks, there were still drops and small rivers of red blood running over stairs and over street pavement.

Groaning and crying broken figures were filling stretchers and finally deposited in the halls of the schola.

While the remaining people of Cyrene marched into a last deadly fight!

* * *

There were three figures standing in a central room, their eyes on the view the helmet mounted cameras were giving them, each of these figures had more experiences in the matters of war than all of the company combined.

But they didn't join the PDF as it charged through the gates of the schola; they didn't join them as some of their best protégées was nearly killed.

No, these three figures didn't care about a mere number of lives they might have rescued today, for they saw that the losses of today would save the people of tomorrow.

They didn't join in the jubilation of the PDF as they swept down the main street in a gallant charge, the few husks and collectors showing themselves being riddled with holes or blasted apart by laser and bolter, if they weren't burned to ash of course.

No, these three figures had another purpose,

And they turned and stepped towards a larger monitor, the incense next to it burning to appease the machine spirit.

The view was dominated by the ugly rock like, phallus shaped vessel of the xenos, but in the gloominess of the room a red light was reflected by the monitor and said light shifted until it stared at a cloud.

But Cyrene doesn't have an atmosphere; as such there are no clouds on the moon.

The only cloud which settled on the settlement today was one made out of millions of small fiendish mechanical insects created to make the prey of its creators defenceless.

But to the figures it was only a matter of time,

Not one of winning and losing, a quick victory and a quick defeat would be both disastrous with the ship and its heavy weapons still looming over them.

The PDF had to hold till help arrived, it didn't matter how many of them died, and the three figures would have decades to replace them in the worst case.

And regarding the swarm…..its use was always part of the plan.

**"If a man dies that another should live, that man's spirit shall eat at the Emperor's table."**

* * *

**For the Readers, who will statistically reach an amount of zero in four chapters~**

* * *

Emile-A239: Coincidentally, the nest portion of the story will feature Shepard and a few of the new Imperials meeting in another crisis region.

douchiesnacks: Thank you~ It might be awesome, but at the same time so OP that the Reapers might arrive only to find smoldering remains of their harvest...actually: ME Races + Reapers against the Imperium has a certain appeal for another story idea

KhazintheDark: Got you~

Red Roman Pyrp: Thats to be seen~ (soon)

OBSERVER01: They are a glorified milita after all and in this chapter it only became worse

Jouaint: Thank you!

Guest: Might be thanks to reading "Man wird nicht als Soldate geboren" from Konstantin Simonow

PredatorPuck: It's the always present temptation to do one like this~

Lovin it: But right now the survive part is still unsure~

jakejakereal: All in due time

GeaRMasteR9: Thank you.

**I would really appreciate it if you might also write what parts and elements you like and which you didn't, might help me to improve the chapters.**


	12. Litany of the Vacuum

**Litany of Vacuum**

* * *

**_If blown in space, hold your breath, recite the litany of the vacuum, making swimming motions towards the hole in the hulls and await pickup by rescue crews._**

* * *

One William Mathew wished back his certainty that today wouldn't be different than any other day as last week, but the smoke tickling his nose and the hard straps cutting into his shoulders under the weight of the backpack he was wearing, quickly abolished all possible hopes for that. He had only seen himself once or twice in passing, as his squad hurried past broken and shattered shop windows and he was thankful he hadn't seen himself at certain moments, who wanted to know how the terror on their face looked like when one had to storm against the front of a house and drag the flame of their weapon along the windows, hearing the sick popping the exoskeletons of the aliens made when their flesh was cooked inside of it?

The face looking back at him right now wasn't the same bored but content…who was he kidding….simply bored face which had greeted him when he stood up this morning and shaved his beard before going to work: instead he looked like one of those archaic chimney sweepers or like someone who's home-made distillery had gone up in flame in his own face.

Brushing his once grey sleeve over his face and simply making it a tiny bit darker, as another layer of soot was rubbed into the fabric, William looked down as his feet brushed against the edges of a rubble pile and his nostrils flared as he tried to fight the nausea of seeing the already dark and dried red strains on his pants.

Miriam….that was her name.

She had been an intern at the space port administration, not even thirty yet and only here because she had wanted a bit of freedom compared to the Alliance regulations on the core world. The thin lines which had formed around the thin lips of Sergeant Hofer as he had seen her limp and broken body showed quite well that she wouldn't have been here without him.

Without him pulling her and his boss out of the meeting they were at the moment, she might have ended up snatched by the insectoids, but she might still have had hope for rescue.

Now the headless body that was once Miriam…he didn't even know her family name, did she still have family?

His foot nearly slipped on a loose stone and a small curse came from the trooper next to him as he was grabbed and held upright, grunting lowly Mathew stood upright again and continued to press himself as close to the walls of the building lining the alley they were passing as possible.

Another line of low tattering sounds and hollow explosions could be heard a few streets away and pieces of concrete could be seen hurled up and flying through the air over the street canyons around them.

"Are those things doing another push against the central?",

Someone muttered behind him and as if to affirm his thoughts the frequent thunderous barks and explosions of those bolters **could** be heard, accompanied by that inhuman howling which sent shivers into everyone's bones as it reminded them of the street they had passed at a point, the remains of the first two platoons walking and hurrying forward and stepping over layers of those dead husks, the street not even visible at some parts, just like the staircases of some houses had been blocked by the bodies.

Not that his own company had fared better, when they had taken their detour from the main force to reach the news tower….it was clear that religious people were kind of nuts….but those Imperials? They were mad, and their madness was infectious, he couldn't even suppress a cold shiver when he looked to the side and caught the eye of their commissar, a lad….no a: madman with a roguish scar under his eye and a peaked cap instead of a helmet.

A madman who's right side seemed to be singed from his boots to his neck, his coat flowing around his darkened pants with tatters.

_"What's that thing?"_

_"Oh Emperor... did you see….."_

Biting down Matthew stopped his breath from being erratic and quick as he remembered the…the abominations which had stood in their way just as they walked into the next street:

At first they had hoped to find more survivors, there was a barricade in the middle of the street and they could see someone's head peeking out behind it.

Lieutenant Mannheim had let out a loud laugh and had walked forward; raising his hands in greeting and to calm their fellow colonists down, wanting to send them back towards the schola if possible.

He had only opened his mouth to greet them, the first squad on his heels, when they were annihilated.

There wasn't a better word for it, at one moment he and ten more troopers were walking towards the barricade with their weapons lowered and in the next moment they were up in the air, crying for their dear life as biotics threw them around like ragdolls and without any shields of their own, they didn't survive long as they either landed on the concrete of the street or were thrown against the wall, but neither the red stains on them nor the sick crunch of braking spines were the most gruesome, the Lieutenant and the Sergeant at the tip of the group were literary grinded to paste, the power against them aimed in many directions, so they remained on their spots…only their remains were spread backwards from it in a triangle of gore.

When they were still staring at the scene in horror blue lumps appeared of the top of the barricade and at one time a face of some kind with a horror stricken expression was staring back at them….set on the shoulder of those monstrosities.

It looked like someone had thrown together three husks….former humans….and fused them together into a limping mass of flesh which was steadily climbing up the barricade before they brought the big biological gun grafted to their right arm, to bear on them again.

Mathew wasn't sure what happened next, but as he had one coherent thought again he was cowering behind a small pile of concrete and steel, the corpse of one of his squad mates, lying on top and her neck bent at an impossible degree and hollow eyes staring back at him.

Letting out a strangled cry of terror he had jumped up again, the flamer pulling him off balance and letting him hit the ground again painfully, which might have been the thing which rescued his life as he only got a few bruises instead of being thrown through the air like the people around him.

Reaching for his flamer with trembling hands he brought it up and rested it over the rubble and the corpse in front of him, gaining more urgency as a few dozen husks jumped over the barricade and ran towards the disarrayed sixth platoon.

He didn't know for how long, but he simply lay there on his belly, his finger clutching the trigger of his weapon while his hand swung it a bit from side to side, the flames greedily consuming the husks and melting their mechanic parts to slag as the smell of burned flesh filled his nose.

At the end of the moment that madman came, to be honest Mathew hadn't known what to expect from some kid wearing a too long coat and a silver and golden cap, but seeing said kid running into the smoke his weapon had created while swinging a satchel over his head with one hand and wielding a sword with the other, simply wasn't cutting it….even close.

But as he registered someone friendly…of sorts….was now in front of him he quickly pulled the barrel of the flamer to the right and roasted another few unlucky husks as the smoke cleared for a moment and he saw that fool driving his sword against the armoured bulk of the husks' heavy hitters.

Only it worked: while the teeth of the chainsword, or so he thought they called them, were no use on the real armour, a stroke against the head quickly beheaded a monstrosity and another stab into the lump which coated the floor and barricade in blue fluids, finished it off quite nicely.

And while he found himself cheering for a moment together with the rest of the platoon the three remaining Scions, as such they were later named, started to turn towards the commissar, a John Something….and the lad simply let go of his satchel, the bag flying the few meters as he dove back over the barricade again, carried by the explosions of the satchel charge as it claimed another one of the Scions, while damaging the other two gravely and letting them be easy pickings for the remaining storm troopers.

Standing there in the middle of the street the boy had only turned around and regarded the blasted remains for a moment before breaking into laughter as if all this had been one big fun!

Mad…those kids were utterly mad.

But he didn't dare to say this aloud, he had stepped past corpses lined up at the side of the street, whose mortal wounds seemed to have come from behind and were all clean headshots.

Any fleeting doubt about the seriousness of the girl in the hospital when she had pointed the gun at his face had long since left him and from time to time he sneaked a glance back at his wife who had ended up in another squad, her eyes still red from crying, while the second darker, broodier commissar was stepping behind her squad, his hands always on the holster of his pistol, while his right carried the heavy sword.

If he wouldn't have been so tired he might have asked himself how those two lads had ended up with command of their platoon, but then: who else?

If he would have been more awake he might have noticed the way both of them were playing good cop bad cop to more than a sixty armed militia men and women, one of them leading mad attacks and charges with a lop sided grin, while the other one was looking at them with a hawk like expression, his dark eyes following their every movement suspiciously while his hand caressed the butt of his laspistol.

The Question might have been: Which one of them had the more dangerous task?

But he was tired, mentally and in body, the whole platoon wasn't that different as they steadily moved forward, shots from in front and behind of him sometimes indicating a few husks trying to jump a man or woman, who stood to far apart from everyone else.

Raising his eyes he finally let out a relived sigh and licked his dry lips as he looking up and saw the high rising tower of the news company, built against the outer wall of the dome and with a good view of the central administration building, where huge smoke columns were raising up into the air and hopelessly clogging the air filters, which usually had kept the oxygen for the colony going.

Giving his wife a thumbs up as they started to spread out and swarm through the till now untouched lobby of the building and what remained of squads started to spread through the rooms of the tower and slowly walked their way up the high staircases and towards the top and center rooms.

Walking past his wife Mathew gently took her hand, feeling the trembling and bloody bruises on it and gave it a very tender stroke, trying to smile at her as they followed the commissars to the top of the tower.

Looking first at the heavy bolters which were carried up under the groans and curses of their handlers and then at the big amplifiers which they had to connect with the equipment in the tower he allowed himself to have hope slip into his voice:

"We are going to call for help…then everything will become good again and we will save our kids."

* * *

**A few hours earlier**

* * *

Biting into his croissant Captain Nguyen was idly stirring his coffee as he scrolled through the newest reports of the strategy plans for the manoeuvre the SSV Verdun was going to take part off and that the six frigate wolf pack it was going to be part of was going to be headed by the Cruiser SSV Nimitz

Chewing on the deep-frozen…or at least it still tasted like this…pastry, he started to fill out the paperwork for the next few days, a new shipment of food rations and a few spare parts for minor systems in the engine room would be needed soon.

Immersing himself in Paperwork he at first didn't notice, but soon he found himself looking up as someone was knocking urgently at his door, why didn't the crewman simply send him a message on the Omni-tool?

"Enter!", he called out and brushed the current document back and closed the Omni-Tool as he saw who had entered, their local war hero: Staff Lieutenant Thomas Fletcher.

Reaching up and holding his head a bit amused, Captain Nguyen gave the man before him a once over, somewhere in his thirties, he had the exact date in the crew manifest, Fletcher was standing just at 1,80 meters and his hazel brown eyes looked out under brown short hair, his posture stiff and hands clenched, betraying some nervousness.

"Sir….Captain Nguyen, it's urgent I just got a call…",

Thomas began a bit stiffly, but the Captain waved a bit impatiently;

"If this is about the….blessing you wanted for our ship Staff Lieutenant, then I thought you already got the mail of the brass, we will visit the little ceremony you want after the manoeuvre….and don't ask me why anyone allowed that, but I also got a more…private notion that Councillor Anderson might come personally to…",

Captain Nguyen didn't get much further and his eyes widened in surprise as the Staff Lieutenant cut him off loudly:

"It's not that Sir! We need to set course for Cyrene immediately, or there might not be anyone left to bless us if we wait!"

Bristling at the interruption the Captain fixed a glare on Fletcher and called out:

"Explain yourself Lieutenant, what makes you edgy like this? Where there any new orders from Arcturus Station I didn't get yet?",

He didn't know why Fletcher had ended up under his command of all things, but he would have to help him learn the usual courtesy on a warship, he wasn't in the more….free environment of his fighter squadron anymore.

"No Sir, but…",

Thomas began, only to be cut off again and this time he also bristled as the worry gnawed on him.

"No, Sir? Then I might want to know why you think you feel the need to run into my office like a headless chicken and demand we set course for you?",

The captain's voice was more weary than truly malicious; after all he only had to point him towards the obvious: do things like they should be done.

"Sir, I'm worried, the communication line I had was severed and…",

Anger was creeping into Thomas Fletcher, how did he dare to play for time, didn't he see that the missionary could die? That the salvation for their entire sector was in danger!

"Ohhh, your communication was severed? Excuse me Lieutenant, of course a System Alliance frigate has to change its route as soon as your talks get interrupted, I totally forgot we were here to cuddle you and look after your wishes!",

God, couldn't the man get the whole idea about proper channels? He didn't like giving him such a dressing down but it was better now from him than later from anyone else and fighter jocks like him usually reacted better to negative motivation.

"Sir!", he called out with anger colouring his impatient expression "This is no joking matter, the whole colony could be in danger, if we don't…"

Raising his hands Captain Nguyen shook his head as the Lieutenant fell silent:

"Staff Lieutenant, I do not know the cause of your behaviour, but I warn you it's deeply unusual in the way you are expression your concerns.", then he sighed at the word, it did show he was quite at a loss on how to answer to this, "…I would advise you to contact the customer service and ask there what the reason for the interruption might be and…",

Shaking his head the captain pointed at the door again "If that was everything Lieutenant, you should try getting in touch with the communication officer if you are worried that much, maybe he caught something. A good day.",

The last words were kept neutral but also short….hopefully the best to get him a bit peeked down and conscious of his behaviour.

"I see Sir….my apologize then.",

Turning around to exit again, Thomas' sidearm hit against the table and hooked up under it for a moment, letting it sway for a moment, sending the coffee over its edge and onto the smooth floor.

"That….I'm sorry sir, I didn't see…"

Letting out a louder sigh Captain Nguyen stood up and shook his head, "Enough Lieutenant, I will clean it up later if you wou-",

He didn't get any farther as the air suddenly didn't pass his neck anymore and he felt two hands grabbing him and strangling his neck as he looked at the Staff Lieutenant with widen open surprised eyes.

Fletcher in turn stared only coldly at the Captain and the grip on his neck only growing stronger as Fletcher started to turn it to the side, far past what a human spine normally did.

"To punish the Traitor is a reward in itself….and you have been found lacking Captain.",

With these simple words and a small movement of his hand Thomas let go of his superior officer….who tumbled down on to the floor with his head set in an unnatural angle, his eyes bulging forward and his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

**"Where I am going, you cannot follow."**

* * *

"It's working again!",

Hearing the cry of delight Tobias twirled around and saw one of the PDF troopers leaning over a computer, his hand flicking from side to side to manipulate the security program of the administration building, starting to switch the security cameras on through the settlement.

Others who had also heard him, starting to walk up to the trooper, looking over his shoulder as the interface started to show deserted streets, checkpoints where those green coffins were being gathered and with dismay they saw that from them to the ship was a line of collectors, leading them along without a worry.

"To the warp with those xenos! They should be after us not simply continue shipping everyone out!",

Only a moment later Tobias noticed that it was him who had said this aloud and to his surprise he found lots of agreeing nods and murmuring around him:

"Yes Captain….they shouldn't be simply continuing with loading them on-board…after the bloody noses we gave them in each engagement so far.",

This voice belonged to Lt. Maier who had leaned against the wall just next to him, also eyeing the monitor thoughtful:

"Maybe they are too stupid to see this? I wouldn't really give them a prize for creativity from what I have seen so far…."

Shaking his head and giving her a lopsided grin as he glanced at her and tried to think of something….less optimistic, Tobias said:

"Or they are still numerous enough that the losses they had till now didn't faze them….the way nastier types of them are appearing all the time indicates that we haven't seen all of them yet….just like as if they are testing us."

"Testing us?", cocking an eyebrow Jeanette looked through the lobby they were standing in, the remains of the first three platoon huddles into the adjourning rooms, peeking over the edge of the windows and pushing new heat sinks into their magazines as they watched the possible approaches from the long open street leading to here.

"Yes, at first they sent only the flying ones, then those husks and now they are being sent in together and accompanied by those more and more monstrosities who look like fused together husks.",

Shrugging a bit tiredly Tobias looked back at his Omni-tool checking the time as he moved his lips silently, recalling the time sixth platoon should have needed to reach the news tower.

"In that case I hope they choke on their testing results.",

Lt. Maier said with some heat in her voice, but right now she also simply wanted to sit down and close her eyes for a bit, holding herself upright because she knew that one couldn't let his guard down right now.

While the initial advance of the PDF was halted by large amounts of enemy units, which had been broken and annihilated under heavy causalities, while the continuing advance to their respective targets was less….spectacular: dissolving into dozens of small skirmishes which sometimes simply consisted of someone hearing the screams of a forward sentry and only finding his rifle and blood splattered over his post, while the ground sometimes also bore traces of a fight and in one or two cases a dead husk was also left.

With the eighty men strong platoons already had suffered twenty or more causalities each the additional losses were not only unnerving them greatly but also started to threaten the battle worthiness of some squads, which had sunken to half their strength or even less.

When they had finally reached the administration building Captain Anderson even had to send the fifth platoon to the generators alone, as without the fourth, the first three platoons wouldn't have had enough people to effectively secure the administration building and still retain a reserve of not much more than twelve men.

So right now they had to secure the building in all directions, while most of the firepower was concentrated on the three large streets, which formed an open ground through the otherwise rather densely built-up urban landscape.

Walking up to one of the heavy bolters and looking past it on the open field in front of the administration centre which also doubled as a town hall and its meeting place, Tobias sighed and wanted to return to the lobby as the gunner next to him took a sharp breath:

"Sir", he whispered nervously and his eyes were fixed on something past Tobias, outside on the street.

Feeling a cold shiver run down his spine Tobias slowly turned around and saw just what had the gunner this nervous: the whole street was swarming with xenos.

From what might have been the horizon on another planet, down to the maximum range of the heavy bolters: the street was covered in husks who were slowly walking…marching towards them, between them were more of the hulking abominations which had killed the head of the sixth platoon and even larger were some kind of floating beings which resembled some kind of insect as they floated towards the administration centre in orderly lines.

"Captain, the scouts on the southern side; report….",

From the ensuring silence which greeted him as Jeanette came to a stop next to him he was quite sure that the view from the southern windows would just be the same as from this one and as if to taunt him another messenger appeared and said:

"West side reporting we have…"

Waving him off and simply pointing out of the window, Tobias didn't have to wait long till the trooper paled and gave a sharp nod, saluting and running back to his post, eager to get at least his rifle and a wall between him and…**that**.

Jabbing his fingers at the approaching horde Captain Anderson of the Cyrene PDF smiled without humour as he looked at Jeanette:

"Seems like the testing is over."

Shaking her head just as ruefully Lt. Maier went to go back to her platoon again, only stopping for a moment as she asked:

"Should we get the storm troopers back inside?"

Blinking and silently cursing himself for having forgotten them, Tobias nodded quickly and pointed at the buildings next to the streets the three groups of xenos were using:

"Better get them here quickly, before one of them decides to lay down his life to the Emperor and by this make them notice our small traps."

Acknowledging his decision with a nod, Lt. Maier hurried back to her vox caster again, starting to issue the new orders to the closest storm troopers who had to get up and tell it to those outside of vox range and then they only had to slip away from the approaching enemy.

Standing at the side of the window and looking out of it, Tobias had to bite down a curse, each of the approaching forces was just as big as the ones they had fought against so far alone, if you looked at the husks the company would have odds with four or five to one against them, not counting the more heavy hitters and the numerous flying and flickering xenos above them, of which some would undoubtedly carry their sickly yellow beam weapons.

If it wouldn't have been for the already short supply of more heavy bolter rounds, they might have tried to maw down as many husks as possible on this reach, but they would surely need the ammunition to counter the heavier units the enemy had started to field and as such they hold their fire for now waiting for the enemy to approach more….which they didn't do.

All over the building sounds of surprise and disbelief could be heard as the xenos simply stopped, staying right there on the street in more or less orderly lines while their empty eyes were looking at the defenders in their position.

And for a strange fleeting moment dozens of ideas shot through hundreds of minds: were they simply preparing the next rush, were they about to deploy a super weapon or maybe that was even some kind of surrendering ceremony?

The answer to those questions arose from the spaceship which was still standing in the middle of the space port like a discarded stick with mud around it:

Less from it in fact, than from the huge dark cloud which had exited large open gates on the ship and was now moving towards them, with tiny black particles…tiny black insect like machines as they knew, flying and swarming around.

And with a sinking feeling in his guts Tobias knew that this was it: no matter what they did now: they had nothing against that many of these seekers, even if each of his troopers had a flame thrower there would have been still too many blind spots left.

Quickly striding over to his vox-caster he ordered:

"Ignite the demolition charges.",

He didn't bother to add why, after all this was not much more than one action of spite, in the hope it would crush as many of these things as possible.

Taking his pistol out of the holster and walking back towards the lobby, he gave the troopers a determined nod in passing and he schooled his expression to remain calm and maybe a bit optimistic.

Even if he knew nothing would change the outcome of this…last deadly fight.

Gripping his pistol tighter he leaned over the railing of the lobby and looked down at the ground floor as he smiled to himself:

"The Imperial Guard is the strongest of all…..too bad they were only PDF."

* * *

Mathew followed the shouted order of Sergeant Hofer and came to a halt next to the open windows which allowed the bolters to aim downwards onto the streets approaching the administration centre…and which were right now packed full of those murderous kidnapping aliens.

"Good god…", he heard someone breath out next to him and point at the "sky" of the dome: a large black cloud made out of those small paralysing insects had left the ship and was now flying towards them.

Holding his flasp a bit self-consciously in his hands Mathew ignored all the small wounds and blisters covering his fingers as he gripped the weapon harder and stared up at the swarm:

"I guess my flame isn't that big sir….",

Shaking his head Sergeant Hofer refrained from any further comments and simply looked down at the streets where the alien's approach had stopped just inside the range of the heavy bolters.

"There…the last of the kids are also running home.",

Someone quipped next to Mathew and he could only role his eyes: would he dare to say that if the commissars and the storm troopers attached to them weren't busy fiddling around with the message relay right now?

But he had a point, if one concentrated there were small silver figures running from the adjourning houses over and into the administration centre.

One moment later the deafening roar of explosions answered why they did it: All along the street prepared charges were going off, either blasting holes into the simply standing xenos, or bringing whole buildings down on them!

If he wouldn't know better he might think that the small three story grocery store he often visited had just made more kills than he and his whole squad together.

The explosions seemed to ripple in multiple waves and if that had been a human enemy or at least sentient enemy the victims would have run back to their base.

Not so these ones: the husks simply stood where they were, the explosions ripping chunks out of their lines and sending concrete and steel as shrapnel through the streets, sometimes even impaling multiple of them where they stood….not that this made any of them move.

And what could have been a moment of triumph and rejoicing quickly turned into a feeling of cold dread as the swarm simply corrected its direction, forming loose circles which would not only cover the centre but also the generator room and their news tower.

Shivering and looking to his side he saw his wife and took one step toward her, wrapping one arm around her and kissing her cheek softly as he looked into certain doom.

"For our children…", he heard her whisper and he could only nod as he looked up again and raised his flamethrower, ready for a last stand just like in the vids.

But he would never get the chance; the only warning which might have alarmed him that something was off was when a small snap was heard as a door shifted in place: turning around he saw the door to the room the commissars and storm troopers were using close and be immediately sealed with an additional emergency hatch.

The closest trooper looked at the door in equal surprise, carrying a pack of bolter rounds in his arms, as they had been ordered to place the ammunition next to the wall so everyone could take from it centralized.

To the crews of the bolters it had only meant more work but right now their eyes were drawn to a small blinking red light in the middle of the ammunition pile, were a satchel was lying attached to the wall….and then its timer reached zero.

Mathew couldn't even close his eyes as the ball of the fiery explosion ignited in front of him, people were thrown around by the blast and some even burned or simply blasted to pieces.

But none of the people thrown into the air touched the floor…even Mathew was holding onto his wife protectively as they were launched up by the explosion which hit the air out of his lungs like a strike.

The next time he tried to breath there wasn't any air….his eyes took a last glance at the dome of Cyrene….from the outside, seeing the air rushing out of the gaping hole which had opened up in the protective shell of the colony.

His lungs felt on fire as the last bit of breath rushed out of them and his mouth opened as the saliva inside of it boiled…or rather turned into a gas, escaping him just as his bowls seemed to evacuate just as quickly….but did he care?

Mathew was close to losing consciousness anyway and his skin felt like an ill-fitting and too tight article, the lack of air quickly leading him into unconsciousness even while red blood escaped his mouth and nostrils.

But as Mathew Williams died in space, a fate which only three men had shared in the early space travel of the human race: Dobrovolskiy, Volkov and Patsayev, he wasn't alone.

Not the few dozen other human bodies which spun through the vacuum: the remains of the sixth platoon, some even trying to hold their breath true to a Uplifter he had never read….which gave them a more merciful death as their lungs ruptured quickly.

But they weren't alone: rubble…concrete….even cars followed them out of the breach and some only opened it wider with their weight as everyone loose was sucked out with them: just like multiple hundreds of husks, collectors and more who had just enough biological parts left in them to die like the troopers….and multiple millions of seeker who were tumbling through space, some even trying to fly back, only to be smashed and or pushed backwards by out flowing things.

The PDF troopers in the centre didn't see a bit of this as the once again working systems of the colony recognized the breach and started to seal all windows and openings of the buildings off, trying to save the inhabitants….which were right now only tired and armed troopers, as all original inhabitants were either on board the xeno ship or…had joined the husks and sixth platoon in a try to play flying Dutchman.

* * *

Lt. Maier was lying on the floor of the administrations basement; her hands were fixed to her side as she was found unable to stop herself from touching her throbbing head…and the open wound on it.

Turning around with weary eyes she took the scenery in: They weren't dead yet, not ripped to pieces by husks, but as good as buried alive.

When the emergency doors and hatches had closed all openings of the building they were surprised, even fearing that the xenos had taken the opportunity to snatch away their vision and their chances to fight back, but the loud cry, a mixture of joy and dismay coming from the trooper who watched the outside vids had drawn everyone to him.

Before their eyes they had seen the utter destruction of the invaders: down to the tiniest insect all of their troops deployed into the dome of Cyrene were lost to space.

But there wasn't any time for celebration, no time for delight: as the next moment had made the world shake around her and she went to the floor as a piece of concrete graced her head.

The next thing she knew was the darkness of the basement, the warmth and smell of two hundred humans huddling together in a small space and usually reserved only for the colonies archives.

She couldn't even turn around without touching someone else and the light was flickering with every shake, telling them that the xenos had finally had enough and were using their boarding weapons against the colony…against them.

After the combat she had thought she had seen and felt the worst there was…but now?

Sitting in the half lit dark and coughing when dust sank down from the ceiling at every hit in the colony and more than one slashing through the building above them: the way up long since filled with rubble and impossible to reopen right now.

The worst was the feeling of helplessness: up there she could shoot, slash and command against the xenos but down here there was nothing; only mind numbing darkness and stillness as the world dissolved into the fast and slow breathing around her and the steady explosions above them.

She had seen Tobias next to the vox-caster, pulling on its controls with a feverish glance in his red eyes as he tried to listen to anyone…not daring to send after a whole part of the ceiling had given away in the neighbouring room and buried three squads under concrete and building parts.

The worst were the cracks: their thin lines were showing and growing in the ceiling, the only thing changing in an otherwise still environment which started to stink more and more like blood and human waste, the three wounded which had been freed from the…cave in?

She giggled, it was hilarious: they had survived the bullets and were now killed by stones.

And as the cracks grew the mood grew worse, silent whispers starting and stopping with each growth of it, weapons lying against walls as people huddled even closer together, trying to gain some strength through others…but only found more hopelessness: there was no one left to do anything against a spaceship of all sorts.

Only when the explosions suddenly stopped the perked up and as the ground shook once again: far worse than before, prayers rose to the Emperor as they were sure the xenos would finish them now.

But they were still here.

No further explosions, no more dust coming down, but also no more light.

With the energy dead they sat where they were, cries of the wounded and their pain filled moans filling the darkness as their doctors worked with the bare light of their omni tools.

The water was becoming short.

Hunger.

How much time had passed?

Private Ester had stopped moaning.

The last of the water was gone.

Still no explosions.

Not dead yet.

Praise be the Emperor.

Water

Dry lips…dry throats….dry whisper.

He protects.

Vox is dead.

Rubble is moving.

Everyone stopped moving, too tired…too weak.

Tobias is still cradling the vox.

Some claimed to hear movement. Steps, moving rocks.

They were mad….others clawed on the walls were they hoped for water lines.

Everyone woke up startled as the ceiling wailed under its weight, no one could sleep again.

Sung praise to the Emperor.

Someone shot himself, not sure who….it's dark.

Light. Movement…rescue?

Thomas is croaking orders, who is strong enough is kneeling or curling up at the entrance, clutching their rifles.

Storm troopers still praying in one corner…..others join them in and return less…edgy.

Opening, the rocks are moved aside…people….fresh air…someone is carrying me.

A bright red eye is looking down at me. Someone is pushing past me…my stretcher….rescue….

The smouldering eye looks after me…it turns away….someone is shaking Tobias….man…older….he's crying…..someone is cursing…..what did he say?

"Tobias….son…look at me! Your mother is worried mad about you….I'm so proud- Missionary-told me-you saved so many-everything will be good…..drink… "

Who cares what he said….I drink too…water…cool….not a bit salty…..not like the other thing…..fresh…clear….so cool…..have we joined the Emperor?

They say I can get as much water as I want…more….please…they said….will be remembered…heroes…..like Verdun…losses…monument…..

**Sleep**...sleep..._sleeep_

* * *

**To my readers, who will hopefully know which part of this chapter I stole from somewhere else.**

* * *

_First of all: This was the last "combat" chapter for Cyrene, the next one will be wrapping everything up and then lead us to the next part...and yes, there will be Shepard._

PredatorPuck: Ohh yes you can go very wrong with them and I simply hope that was more of an amused thought than a real recommendation

douchiesnacks: Thank you

OBSERVER01: Ohhh? Who knows~

Luka le fay: Funny that one space battles I got a devastating review because I was skipping forward too fast...and what do you mean with: if the story was told a little?

jakejakereal: Thank you, I will try to make future chapters better, it would help if you tell me what felt rushed~

ShadowCub: I'm feeling slightly worried after reading someone was right in killing someone...even if its only fiction.

Haruka Kasumi: Will come in the next chapter!

Legionary: Now.

Jouaint: Thank you

LordGhostStriker: There are flamethrowers in the infantry and armor...pfff...on a small moon colony?

Anon: Indeed, too bad that the Imperium has lots of technology which might do wonders for them...if only they would understand it...or even know that its part of their systems

Lovin it: Ohhhh, there will be much much more fire! ...but no real Sisters of Battle

KhazintheDark: It wouldn't end well.

Eljin1: Thank you, even if I have to bring the religion back in focus after these long combat chapters.


	13. This Planet is the Emperors

_**This Planet is the Emperors**_

* * *

_**When it was over, when the blood had dried and the fires had died down, then we found we were the same as we had always been - small and terrified human beings, with only the light of the Emperor to see by in this dark galaxy of sin.**_

_**Saint Praxides of Ophelia II**_

* * *

Tearing her glance away from the sobbing dark skinned woman at the hospital bed, Missionary Flavia Sophana looked into the brown eyes glaring at her , her bionic eye buzzing lightly as its lens corrected itself for the shorter range, a process drawn out to immediate her opposite:

"I think I do not see your point, Lord Anderson.",

She replied with only so much innocent puzzlement in her one natural eye as it meet the flint sharp glare of Councillor Anderson, who was of course only here as "Uncle David".

But even Uncle David was no one to be taken lightly and the presence of the armed marines in the hospital didn't really diffuse the tension in the air.

"I`m currently not in the mood for much bickering, so I will go straight to the point, my question is: were you, at any moment, hiding terrorists in your school Ms. Sophana?",

Staring back at the angry face with the thinly pressed together lips, the Missionary looked back calmly and shook her head:

"I can assure you…that we haven`t had any contact with a subversive organization like you asked about, neither cultists nor xenos have found a place in our midst.",

She said with conviction but the Councillor only shook his head and pointed outside of the window, the hospital rooms they were currently using were giving them a good view from the east wing of the schola onto its grounds….and the small groups of PDF troopers sitting or lying in the grass with food and water next to them….just like their rifles.

"So you really want me to believe…Missionary", he said after a small pause and another scorching glare, "That it was truly mere coincidence, that your schola had gotten two cargo containers full of rifles, pistols and heat sinks, instead of the… ",

Collecting his thoughts or maybe trying to shrug off the ridiculousness of the claim, the councillor took himself a moment before finishing:

"…two cargo containers full of canned peaches you ordered?"

"The Emperor protects the faithful.",

The missionary said with a convinced finality, as if this sentence would be enough to explain all possible questions one could have at this story.

Turning on her heels and striding towards a corner of the room, she reached into her robes and pulled out a small set of match sticks, lighting one up and leaning forward to put on a small candle. The light in turn was illuminating a small golden picture; each line slowly gilded onto steel by small graceful hands….hands belonging to one of the acolytes who hadn't returned from the battle of Cyrene.

Crossing her hands in the sign of the Aquila, Flavia closed her eyes for a moment as she leaned forward and bowed before the small golden depiction: nothing more ornate than a simple Aquila framed by laurels, meanwhile her lips moving to a silent prayer as she stood up again and then smiled at the Councillor:

"How can we be anything else than grateful for this little mix-up?",

shaking her head lightly before the councillor could answer on this, she pointed towards the window and down at the recovering troopers, which were mixed with Alliance personnel and medics, who had used the exercise field of the schola, as largest open place in the colony which was still pressured, to build up a field hospital to take care of the more lighter wounded.

Giving Anderson a moment to take the scenery in she continued: "three-thousand nine-hundred eighty one missing, two-hundred eighty five dead and close to four-hundred wounded, sixty five of them are critical and needed to be transported onto the relief ships the System Alliance had sent us for….", she pauses and gives Anderson a half bow "We are grateful."

Reaching up and massaging his temples lightly Anderson sighed and let his glare drop, only shaking his head as he searched for words: "Missionary….even if I would believe in some sort of divine intervention to your advantage: it`s still remarkable that more than half of those men and women listened as officers and non-coms in this little militia were members of the Terra Firma Party."

Fixing him with both eyes, one green and one red, the missionary said very slowly and softly: "Doubts in regards to the Emperor does not befit a man of your position Sir.", shaking her head as if to get rid of her irritation Flavia smoothly replied:

"And those men and women didn`t get their positions because of a membership in any party Lord Anderson.", with a small smirk she waited for his wince at the title to subside: "The reason they are filling most of the leading slots in the Cyrene Planetary Defence Force is because they had joined our classes in fitness, survival and swordplay lessons before: they were simply in better physical shape than most of the other volunteers who took up arms to defend their homes."

Nodding grudgingly but not entirely satisfied Councillor Anderson carried on:

"That still leaves us with another point….What did you think when you sent those children on a battlefield?!", he said hotly and glared condemningly on the missionary, his hand pointing to another bed, a young boy lying in it with a feverish glance to his eyes and one of his legs being nothing more than a stump clad in white bandages.

Following his pointing with her eye, the missionary only shook her head lightly: "Those children were the ones who had the best chances on the battlefield. Look around! You think the PDF got mauled badly Councillor?", she scoffs and turns to look at the progena in his bed again "…if it wouldn`t have been for him and his fellow comrades, we might not even be standing here and arguing…", sighing she shrugs: "They were learning everything they might have to use one day here in the outer systems….far away from your precious cosy Alliance: hunting, shooting, how to work with sword, knife, bayonet and even their bare hands.", she smirks a bit proudly and nods as if to affirm her words "If you don`t believe me ask any of the troopers who were out together with them and you won`t find one who has anything but admiration for their marksmanship and prowess."

Looking at her with some surprise, after all Tobias had told him he had reported all strange happenings at the schola (which shooting practice wasn`t for obvious reasons), his eyes took a suspicious look at her again and he calmed down, simply asking "Why?"

"You ask me why Councillor, I thought it would be plainly visible.",

The Missionary said fluently her gaze wandering towards the window and staying there as she put her hands on her back, the long heavy sleeves of her robe falling over them.

"The colonists are unsafe out here, I read about their claim for independence from the Systems Alliance and", she gave him a small glance waiting for any interrupting, but Anderson was old and experienced enough to simply listen sometimes: "…and while I find it a quite dangerous choice in regards to the safety of the colonies…..the Imperium promotes self-government of its planets most of the time, only wanting them to adhere to some basic guidelines and pay their tithes for the upkeep of the vaunted Imperial guard and brave Imperial Navy."

"By basic guidelines you mean…things similar to our human rights?", remembering the short briefing he had gotten from his colleagues and the huge number of guesses and vague comments which formed most of the information about the three so human like Aliens and their distant Imperium….an organisation who seemed to have solved their lack of Mass Relays and FTL by using self-governance and only a faint central power which was more of a defence coalition than anything else, as he interpreted her comments, to keep themselves safe.

He found Sparatus' thoughts that the three women were from a society with a rather non-militaristic attitude a bit doubtful at this moment, so he was quite curious what their motivation for showing those students self-defence and shooting might have been.

"In a way…", the missionary said after a brief moment of pondering silence, her right hand stroking over her left.  
"The guidelines are mostly fulfilled by allowing the Imperial Cult to do their holy work on said planets and then making sure the local authorities will follow the rules promoted by the Emperor in regards to their way of dealing with those gifted, the ones with abnormal genetic structure and the alien/xeno.",

Shaking her head lightly as the Councillor wanted to ask more about this, Flavia simply looked sadly at the floor, even the light of her bionic dimming as she said softly:

"Those rules are in place for us not to repeat the errors of our ancestors, who`s dark sins still throw their shadows over us and make us live with the result of their mistakes and hubris.",

After a small pause, as if reluctantly she added:

"Even the Imperial Cult isn`t infallible, just when we rose in the newly founded Imperium the lesser of our predecessors became intoxicated by the power they started to wield and not only set themselves against the rightful government the Emperor left to watch over the Imperium, but one man, who`s vile name is spoken with disgust in all corners of the Imperium today, even dared to topple it and set himself at their top, trying to take power only intended for the Emperor himself.",

A small humourless smile flicked over her lips as she reached into her robe and pulled out a small scroll, small meaning it might only consists of the skin of one or two grox.

Rolling it open and exposing winding letters, written in ink and gold, adorned by small sigils with Aquila's and leering skulls, she showed the unfamiliar script to the Councillor and said:

"This my Lord….is my way of reminding me of the foolishness of Hubris: this is a copy of the Decree Passive, which was set into effect after the reign of terror that one had unleashed over thousands of worlds: it forbids the Ecclesiarchy, which also includes me as member, "to gather, train, promote, sustain or in any way command any force of men under arms". Which means I`m not allowed to host any such terrorist group you talked about…"

Looking at the unfamiliar script, trying to make out the meaning of the…handwritten? Letters he saw on what was something akin to paper, but tighter and thicker in a way. Reaching for his omni-tool and making a small photo of it, after all the Imperial language wasn`t cracked yet, he looked up again and shook his head.

"Missionary Sophana, neither can I read the document you are trying to show me, nor do I believe your church hierarchy has any assets out here to discipline you even if you would step over those bounds."

Unable to help herself, Missionary Sophana found herself smirking lightly at Anderson's words

"Any assets? The Ecclesiarchy has two assets around me who would never waver in their devotion and will take care of me should I ever try to break something like the Decree Passive.",

Shaking her head lightly in turn now, her red hair falling over her shoulders, Flavia explained:

"The two sisters aren`t only here to follow or assist me in my mission, they are also keeping watch over me and will do anything necessary if I should fall."

"..fall?", Anderson asked, not quite sure what it meant, the Missionary's use of their language seemed quite…alien to him, he couldn`t remember ever meeting someone who had used so many religious phrases or hints like she did.

"Fallen from Grace….Fallen from God…and if they fall like Lucifer fell, the swords! The flame!",

The missionary said with a small hint in her voice which let it sound more like a song, before she shook her head:

"Your people seem to have small appreciation for order and law in their literature."

Before Anderson could ask what she meant the missionary raised her hand:

"I can offer you nothing more than my word for now Councillor and I can assure you that what we teach our progena is only done for their own good and the good of all humanity.",

Seeing his doubting look as she evoked the "good of all humanity", the missionary precised….in a way:

"They will be able to survive the worst conditions you can throw your colonists in: they will be able to protect the normal colonists like the knights of old in their steel war machines and it won`t matter if it will be local predators, hostile slavers or droughts and famine: our progena will get the best education for such…practical matters we can give them."

"I can`t help but feel as if that aim….is questionable constraining their possible choices for the future missionary, or will one of them still be able to decide…they would prefer becoming a mechanic or an artist in citadel space instead?",

Anderson said with a stony face, his voice flat as the freedom of choice was one of the things which differentiated them from the batarians and their caste system.

"If they want to.", Sophana said simply.

"Truly missionary, you don`t strike me as someone, who would put so much work into these children only to let them slip out of yours hands again?",

Anderson said with some scorn in his voice, his hand patting against the heavy and dark structure of the room's walls.

"My hands? They do not belong to me Lord Anderson, they and their skills belong to humanity, just as sure as their souls belong to the Emperor.",

The missionary said solemnly, lowering her gaze as she mentioned His name.

"The way you repeat "humanity" seems worrying missionary, are you sure your new friends from Terra Firma haven`t made more and more akin to the terrorists of Cerberus and their like?",

Anderson snapped, who was still feeling irritated by so many Terra Firma members and functionaries remaining when so many decent colonists were kidnapped….a bad resentment, but since he became Councillor and Shepard rescued the rest of the Councillors in the battle of the Citadel, Terra Firma and its followers were only giving him trouble.

"I can swear to you Councillor, that I`m not sharing any idea of human perfection through science, nor do I want humanity to hold a superior position above the other species of the Citadel.

As I said to you Lord Anderson, the guidelines are there to prevent us from doing the same mistakes as our ancestors and holding xeno`s as aliens and exploiting them is one of those. So I might swear to you by the God-Emperor for whose idea of humanities rightful place between the stars I will lay down my life if needed and am already using all my energy on.",

Flavia said solemnly, not having raised her head yet, as she fed more and more half-truths into her words.

"Missionary, still, I need to ask you to…",

Councillor Anderson tried to say more sharply, his hands already moving to gesture for the marines on his side as a loud cry suddenly came from his sister and he twirled around on the spot:

"HE`S WAKING UP! DAVID! Tobi is…",

He didn`t even need to hear the rest of it, as relief flooded through his body and he was already steps towards the bed of his nephew, as he remembered who he had just talked to and was shortly before to…

"I will excuse myself Councillor, he might prefer to wake up with his family, the Emperor's blessing on you.", said person said simply and gave him a small bow and the sign of the Aquila, Tobi had called it like that in a letter, before she stood up and walked towards the door, giving the marine sentries at both sides of it friendly nods, which simply stood as they were without orders from him.

"Ohh my baby!", he heard his sisters coo between sobs and he banished those dark thought out of his mind, he would have time for the missionary later, and sat down at the other side of his nephew, who`s eyelids were starting to flicker and open as…

* * *

….bright light pierced Tobias' vision as he raised his heavy eyelids and he found himself letting out a loud groan….or what should have been one, it didn`t seem more than a whimper in his ears, as he closed them again quickly.

"Wha…". He rasped and stopped as coughs clotted his dry throat for the moment and he leaned back into the soft pillow below his head, a tired smile spreading on his lips, even if they seemed to crack from the light movement: but at least it seemed like someone had pulled them out of the basement….he didn`t think the xenos would have bothered to give him a bed and a pillow after all.

Only slowly, other impressions seemed to dribble down onto his brain…or whatever fluffy marshmallow seemed to have replaced it at the moment: someone was sobbing and he felt wet drops hitting his bare chest as he slowly opened his eyes again, before gasping:

"Mu..m…what..are you…doing….here?",

The words rolled off his tongue slow and garbled, but it was enough to set his mother into another fit of sobbing as she hugged him tightly and burrowed her face against his chest, her dark hair tickling over his stiff neck as he slowly raised his arm and patted her on the back.

"Ohhh…my baby….I was so scared…..I feared I would lose you….like your father….",

His mother whimpered and gave him a soft squeeze, which still sent jolts of pain through his ribcage as he leaned back into his pillow, continuing to slowly pat his mother's back to calm her down:

"It's ok mum…it…", a cough broke his words as his dry throat seemed to strike, his eyes closing at the discomfort, only lessening as he felt someone put the edge of a cup to his lips and water slowly trickled over his cracked lips.

"Thanks…", he said as the cup was pulled away again and opening his eyes again he stopped in shock as he looked into the warm smile of his… "Uncle?"

Laughing softly, the gruffness with the missionary forgotten as he looked down at his young Nephew, Councillor Anderson shrugged: "Didn't expect to see me when waking up, did you?"

Tobias could only shake his head lightly and stammers:

"But….you are….Councillor….you need to be…"

Shaking his head and laying his hand on Tobias' shoulder, David Anderson shook his head:

"I need to be with my sister and my nephew right now….family is important.",

He said gravely before looking at his sister, who wouldn't seem to stop sobbing out of relief and then David leaned down, whispering into the ear of his nephew:

"Not to forget that Councillor Tevos was all worried and riled up at what might have happened to her three favourite….Imperials, that's what they are called, or?",

While his words seemed light the scornful frown on his face seemed to be more directed against his asari colleague than anyone else. But as soon as his face had darkened it also lightened up again and he touched his sister's shoulder lightly:

"Pam, give the boy some room to breathe…you might crush him otherwise.",

David said with a small teasing tone to his big sister, gently guiding her arms away from Tobias' hurting ribs and so giving his nephew a few moments to breathe.

Using this chance to fill his lungs which much needed oxygen, even if each breath seemed to strain his bruised feeling chest, Tobias looked around taking in the rather dark walls of the hospital and twitching lightly as the scented wax of the candle burned and started to fill the room with a sweet scent.

"Did we w…", he stopped himself as his eyelids closed and the last moments replayed again before his inner eyes: the sudden warning of atmosphere lose inside the habitual dome, the closing of the heavy hatches and plates on all windows….someone crying as his arm got crushed when he was just shooting out of a window as it closed…the confusion, the fear, the sudden death as a hot laser melted through a hatch in a neighbouring room and the door separating them fell shut immediately, silence hiding the death of their comrades as they were blown out into space…

His eyes opening again gave him a view of the worried expressions on his mother and uncle's face, his lips pulling upwards at the corners ever so slightly to calm them down, as he asked again:

"How many, did survive?",

His voice might have been weak but the steady gaze in his eyes told his uncle enough to gently silence his mother, who was busy with trying to tell him that he had to get better and wait with his questions till another time when he was better.

Giving his uncle a thankful glance when he was sure his mother wasn`t looking, he got a sad smile in return as his uncle touched his shoulder softly:

"We are not sure yet, but as we have started flagging everyone who hasn't been found yet as dead…there should be around three hundred survivors from those who you….lead outside.",

The Councillor said a bit reluctantly as he searched for a reaction in the face of his nephew.

Tobias only seemed to stiffen at first, his features taking on a pained mask of sorrow as the reality of those numbers slowly sank into his awakening mind and a moaning sound escapes him for a moment, his head sinking back powerlessly into the pillow as his hand clenched around the blanket and he forced out:

"What about the outer lying forces…the fifth and the sixth company? Did they get through it?",

His thoughts turning to the two lieutenants whose hands he had shaken not even…exactly how long

Ago had that been?

"How long did I sleep?",

He asked before getting an answer to his first question, his eyes wandering over the walls in a search

For a clock or anything else….maybe a peek out and onto the sun…

"You were out for two days….three since you left the gates of this dome Tobias…",

His uncle said carefully, reaching out and touching his neck lightly to get his gaze back on him, forcing

himself to smile as his sister clutched her sons hand again:

"You did a lot to earn yourself a good day's sleep."

"I did….didn`t I?",

Tobias said and an equally forced smile formed on his lips as he tried to pat his mother's hand in return, his eyes searching for hers and inciting a new shower of grateful tears to fall on his hospital bed. Waiting more patiently than really heartfelt right now, he turned to look at his uncle again, his voice firmer but his eyes still betraying the guilt and fear he felt as he asked:

"So what about the fifth and sixth?"

"The fifth company…as you call it….",

Councillor Anderson said with some reluctance regarding civilians playing soldier, but at the other hand, what they had endured was something to respect, so he continued with less doubts:

"…we found them in the generator building, they weren`t quite as shaken as you…and your forces, but they were still pretty happy to see us and how they kept the generator going even through the short bombardment and the aftermath might have saved your life."

Nodding a bit thoughtful, a grateful feeling spreading through his being as he remembered the slow rumbling of the ventilation system which had given them the much needed air to…

gasp for breath, his cheek pressed against the rough floor as his nose was nearly crushed against the cover slits of the ventilation, warm sweaty bodies pressing against his sides and waiting eagerly to get their own turn at the fresh air…

A small coughing fit pulled him back into reality as he covered his mouth with one hand, catching some spit as he pulled himself together again.

"I…I see, …I will have to thank Lt. Ae…no….he`s dead…..then Sergeant Mes….", looking at the worried glances of uncle and mother he shrugged lightly and his eyes grew dark as he looked down at his blanket:

"I think…the last Vox message announced his death too so….maybe I should simply go and thank each of them….can`t be many of them left, or?",

Tobias said with a dry smile forming on his lips, quickly fading away again as he saw the stern look of his uncle and quickly shaking his head he tried to sit up:

"I`m sorry uncle but….you still haven`t told me about the sixth company yet."

Just as he wanted to open, his uncle wanted to answer, his mother's hand found its way to his forearm and he stopped for a moment, his eyes wandering to Tobias again and asking:

"Are you sure you want to know it right now?",

He said very softly, not wanting to overwork his nephew just at this moment.

But Tobias only nodded and gave him another one of those dry smiles he seemed to have gained over his stay on Cyrene:

"It can`t be far worse than what happened to the rest of us….didn`t you pull them out yet?",

Tobias said with some faint worry but sure he would be able to endure it after he heard the bits regarding everyone else.

"Tobias….son…there….", his uncle began unsure, his eyes meeting his as he took a last breath and said more strongly: "There isn`t one of them left: the news tower they were in was the part of the dome the breach was formed in...Only the small student group with them was lucky and was currently working on the radio transmitter when their ammunition….cooked off.",

The way he said the last two words showed how alien the idea of any ammunition….in this case even infantry weapon ammunition….going off, was to him.

"I…..they…all got spaced?",

Tobias gasped, his voice nearly giving away as his hands clenched into his blankets and he remembered what Lieutenant Mannheim had said: they had trusted him to get them and their families out alive again….and he had failed.

"What…what about the pods? Did you rescue them….not all of them could have been on their ship yet….or?",

His voice trembling at the question Tobias stared right into his uncle's eyes, wanting to have at least one reason why they hadn't died in vain as they advanced into the settlement….why they had withstood the enemy fire…why they watched their comrades bleed to death on dusty grounds as enemy cover fire made them unable to save the wounded out of the small corridors of death zones and no man's lands….

Only slowly the voice of his uncle pierced the clouds of his memory again:

"-ot in vain, frigates which came to your rescue were able to rescue maybe a hundred pods before they either drifter away to far or the life support systems in them failed…",

…there he was again, lying on the floor and clutching the Vox, the only connection they had to the outside world in their dark and gloom, the air slowly getting stale, as the necessary fresh air only blew in sparsely, people sinking to the ground and falling asleep from a lack of oxygen, others slow and tired themselves as they pulled those towards the vents…

"…we at first found those close to the escape pods of the SSV Verdun, but we could locate some of the others….we tried to rescue the children first and I think we got a fair amount of…",

Wanting to kick himself, Tobias sat up again as he repeated: "Escape pods, from the SSV Verdun?", cursing himself an idiot as he had forgotten to ask what happened to the big ass space ship the xenos had parked in the middle of the colony.

Quickly he added to his question:

"Wait uncle…just what happened after we got…buried?"

Giving Tobias' mother a small glance, who in turn nodded ever so slightly, Councillor Anderson nodded and said:

"To be honest, it didn't start out well, Captain Nguyen had a tragic…"

* * *

"…accident, or at least it will be seen like that.",

Lieutenant Thomas Fletcher said sharply with his hands crossed behind his back and his heels standing against each other as he stood at attention in front of the missionary's desk, his eyes looking back at her respectfully, while the two sisters flanked Flavia on both sides.

Looking him up from head to toe Sophana slowly nodded before gesturing towards the chair next to him, offering the slightly wounded officer a seat, which he took stiffly with his left arm being bound in a caste.

"I can see the benefit of your actions…simply by the fact I can see at the moment is thanks to you: you have done a great service to the Imperium by enabling us to further spread the one true faith…",

As she says this she lightly inclines her head in respect, her eyes closed as Thomas seemed to flinch at this, mumbling and stammering about how he wasn't worthy of such praise…

Only to shut up and freeze as the missionary straightened again and her baleful glare was directed at him:

"But, while these actions were justified in this instance, murder of a fellow human, even a heathen, who was also your commanding officer isn't something to be seen lightly, as such you will need to repent for your deed and then He might forgive it and simply be delighted by the role you played in the protection of His faithful."

Lowering his gaze quickly and full of rue, Fletcher's right hand came up to his chest, forming the half Aquila as he whispered:

"I'm a penitent, starving and thirsting for forgiveness. I'm a tool of his wrath, but also his shield and you form my conscious, may the Emperor shine on your fortune Missionary, for you are the one who showed me my path, a path which lead to this colony's salvation.",

A smile tugged on his lips as he looked up again and breathed slowly:

"It's true, isn't it? This planet belongs fully to the Emperor? With all its being and its entire hearth?"

"This planet is the Emperor's.",

The Missionary stated simply and looked back at him evenly:

"The only heathens left on its surface are those which are here to aid us and were brought by your ships. Praise be the Emperor, for he has saved his flock and plunged the rest into damnation, might their souls find His forgiveness in Death.",

She intoned and the two sisters behind her formed the Aquila sending a small prayer to the Emperor, partly for their survival and partly for the great waste the lose of those lives had been, even if they had been heathens.

Waiting for a moment, till three lips had finished their prayers with a soft "Ave Imperator", the Missionary looked at Thomas and smiled more graciously.

"To show your remorse you shall fasten for the coming three weeks, your tongue shall taste no sweetness and your lips let nothing else than water pass: thus is your penitence so He might forgive you."

Inclining his head respectfully Thomas raised his eyes lightly and gave the Missionary a firm nod "I will do as you have told Missionary, might you wish for the rest of my report?"

Looking up for Sister Marie's opinion and seeing it in those blue eyes, Flavia graciously gestures for Thomas to continue "Please do, we must know as much as possible, both about the consequences of your deed for you and about the way the xenos fought in orbit."

Reaching for his arm and bringing up his omni-tool with the scans of the SSV Verdun and its surrounding area in the last few hours.

"After I dispatched the biggest obstacle in my path, it was only a matter of crying for medical help and then…"

* * *

"…faster dammit!",

The progress on the omni-tool seemed to move with the speed of a snail, as Thomas worked on it, his tools not only needing to bypass security but to break it for codes without any part of it noticing that he was breaking in.

He didn't have much time, after alarming the doctor of Captain Nguyen's accident he must surely already be on the way with his two orderlies and so his hands felt a bit sweaty and tension filled him as he manipulated the code, murmured prayer lines calming him as the program finally seemed to have found a gap in the security…

With a hiss the door to the cabin opened and loud gasps could be heard from the outside, Thomas only seeing shadows surging towards him as he was kneeling over the captain, trying to give him CPR, his hands pressing the only slowly moving chest up and down.

The first one to run in was doctor Afolabi, running in his dark skin paled quickly and he went down on his knees as he looked into the sickly swollen and sweaty face of long-time friend and superior officer, gentle hands pulling Thomas away who stood with a horror filled expression next to the orderlies who were carrying a stretcher and standing by just as shocked as the doctor gently lifted the captains head, looking into slowly dimming eyes as he waved them closer to get him on it.

"What…what happened?",

The doctor of African ancestry said, his voice sounded aged beyond his years in mere minutes.

"It…it is my fault….when he showed me the message I hit the table in anger…and then the cup fell down…..he slipped just when we were heading for the bridge…",

Thomas said, deliberately sounding broken and gloomy as he stared at the slowly dying man with a forlorn expression in his eyes, quickly falling in line with all the others who slowly filled the cabin, not only the doctor and the orderlies, but also people who were simply close when they rushed by and now had to be pushed aside for the broken man who was once a captain to leave the room.

Slowly as if regaining his senses out of the deep sorrow, Thomas looked around and walked forward, past the still stunned crewmen until he was a few meters away and activated his omni-tool's link to the ship's communications and pinged the XO:

"Commander Baker, Sir, I need to report…",

A small camera picture build up on his wrist and he looked into an already grief stricken face of Benjamin Baker:

"Lieutenant if it's about the Captain's accident….I would ask you to go back to your quarters and wait for further questions.",

Noticing that it sounded as if he was suspecting a fellow officer, he quickly shook his head

"Not for questions obviously, I'm sure your nerves are rattled and the manoeuvre will surely be stopped, don't worry we will be back home in a few days and then…"

"Sir, with all due respect, you need to look into Captain Nguyen's mailbox, or yours now, a message for the commanding officer arrived only minutes before his death."

"How do you know…"

"I have…let's say first-hand knowledge about our destination, Sir. The colony of Cyrene seems to be under attack, Alliance intelligence isn't sure what happened to them, but they dropped of the net and in regards to what happened in the last months…."

"That could mean we have our mysterious kidnappers….at least some batarian slavers. Still, why do they want to send us?"

"It's in the briefing sir; our wolf pack is the closest navy formation to Cyrene."

"Yes…I'm looking at it Lieutenant….two jumps over secondary Relays…",

Looking up from the message again he gave Thomas a sharp nod:

"Get up to your position on the bridge then, it seems no one on board can give themselves more than a moment to grief…"

Saluting with his free hand before the monitor, Thomas allowed himself a small smile as the picture of the new captain closed and his feet started to move towards the next elevator, claxons starting to blare through the ship as sailors were called to their position.

Now it only came down to the rest of the frigates and the cruiser to also read and follow their orders from the "Alliance".

While it certainly wasn't entirely honourable, it was what….

* * *

"…had to be done. You may be sure that you are enjoying our whole trust Lt. Fletcher.",

Flavia said softly and give him one of her perfectly trained smiles, set to make the flock under her feel cherished and trusted….as far as any human being could.

"Thank you missionary, I hadn't simply left a message in the captains message box, but used his connection to send one back to the buoy in the system and from there bounce it to the captains of the ships, turning our formation from a merely training one into a set wolf pack with the mission to help the Colony on Cyrene which had fallen silent five hours prior."

"And this worked?", Sister Marina said a bit doubtfully, having looked into the communication systems of the local humans herself and found them a cluster of totally unneeded and in most cases highly questionable materials…she had set multiple acolytes on a way to find people who regularly ordered fornax anyway.

"Yes, the crews were just as eager as anyone else to find out who was abducting human colonies in the Terminus and Cyrene is just close enough to be in the eyes and minds of the Alliance….as for the captains: it was an order."

"I see, you were back on the bridge when the ships lined up for the relay use towards Cyrene?",

Flavia said to bring the conversation back on track.

"I was monitoring the sensor watch and to be honest…when we arrived the xenos were…"

* * *

"…blocking our sensors Sir, we can't get a good look at anything further away than half way to the colony moon.",

Lt. Fletcher said with a frown as his eyes wandered over the surface of the interface before him, the belt cutting a bit uncomfortably into his shoulder as he felt the new captain leaning over it:

"Nothing…this data makes no sense, are they scrambling our view?"

"Sir…that would be the most prudent answer…"

"So we are blind….but only half way? That fits to the messages from the other ships, we are lacking a bit in fighters and torpedos to close up so willingly but if we get past the half in FTL we should get a better picture, or?"

"The other sensor officers and I think so sir, we also wrote Captain Galla-",

"I know, I read it too: jumping in with guns blazing and the fighters pushing out from the cruiser to take down any kinetic fields opposing us…"

"It should work Sir."

"It will, just get us a target Lt. Fletcher and we won't disappoint Captain Nguyen."

Sighing softly as the newly minted captain went off again to watch the tactical display…and the big flickering cloud hanging over Cyrene and half of the system…Thomas checked the work of his subordinates again, they were still trying different approaches to get through whatever measurement had created that cloud, but he was certain the men and women under him would be ready when they went into System FTL and appeared just shy past the screening.

Whatever was doing it, it wasn't doing it perfectly, the closer they got to bring the full strength on their systems on it, the better their view became.

But would that be enough, he saw everyone making last cheeks as they and the SSV Merkinov gave their ready signal to the rest of the squadron, which was going to take a more covert approach and first swing starboard before aligning themselves up and then would follow, hopefully catching the open broadside of every ship which would be orientated to face the mass relay….and by that the SSV Verdun too.

They should be agile enough to survive the few seconds it would take the rest of the squadron to follow them and it made sense that two frigates would jump in a bit sooner to get a first picture, then sending it off to everyone else, while making whoever was attacking the colony believe the Alliance had send only two frigates to deal with them…until the rest of the squadron tore their exposed side open.

And of course all that could only work because of the scrambling field laid around Cyrene, whoever was doing it was blocking all sensors by generating a high particle emission and an FTL travel wouldn't even be visible against it.

Readying his computer to deliver the sensor's findings to the tactical centre and the weapon systems, he slaved all other sensor systems to his, ready to keep an eye on everything his subordinates wouldn't spot.

Captain Baker seemed to say some words, but nothing which came close to flaming speeches he had heard from the church on Cyrene: it simply wasn't easy anymore to fell much about their little Alliance with its tainted ways after learning of the true glory of mankind.

The sensors went to "flight mode" as some people joked, shortly before the SSV Verdun entered FTL, the emissions would have scrambled all tries even just as much as the field around Cyrene and any visuals would already be just as scrambled as they overtook the light in places.

It didn't take much more than ten minutes to arrive at the set mark, the SSV Verdun dropping out of the FTL just next to the Merkninov and for one short moment both ships sensors went to full blast to get their first clear look on the system…

* * *

…a look which never arrived as the culprit was waiting just in the middle of both ships.

The Alliance sailors never got a chance to see their attacker as their ships were blown apart by what the PDF had dubbed "popsickle", the SSV Merkinov having the dubious honour to be the first ship after the Normandy SR-1 to be targeted by the beam weapon of the collectors at a close range of only a few dozen kilometres.

Easily smashing the kinetic barrier the beam travelled over the side of the small ship and gutted it open, its contents flying outside, while fleet personnel, who were miraculously spared from sudden vaporization unlike many of their comrades working in the affected areas, spin around in their spacesuits, frantically trying to stabilize themselves.

While the Merkinov drifter further, air leaking wracked with failing energy, the Verdun was "only" targeted by the eyes set on the side of the cruiser, the evil big cousins of the guardian laser….and by that totally bypassing the kinetic shields.

He only could thank the uncomfortable belts, as they kept him from joining more than half of the standing bridge crew out in space, just like the short career of Captain Baker.

The rest of the "engagement", consisted of getting everyone off the ship and as suddenly highest officer that also fell on him….but it wasn't like anyone needed to be told twice to leave the ship.

Only the doctor might have made a fuss because of the patients, but one of the shots had left a clear hole from the outer armor through the sick bay until it lost its energy somewhere in the guts of the ship, exposing even more of it to vacuum.

Sitting back into his chair he shrugged softly to the missionary and said:

"Two frigates lost, total lose of the SSV Merkinovs with all hands….and we didn't even get a good view of our enemy and their weapons. Alliance engineers are crawling all over the wracks to find out more, but right now the eyewitnesses on this colony are the only ones with a clear idea how that ship looked like….everyone else simply saw it fleeing towards the mass relay in FTL."

"A most frustrating turn of events, I'm sure.",

the missionary said and started to stand up, gesturing for Thomas to remain in his seat,

"Stay….I will have to send some of my acolytes to bring you something to eat and drink, revive your body and spirits, Lieutenant, as you will surely need both of them.",

Giving both of the sisters on her sides a small look she gestured for them to follow her, as she gave Thomas a slight smile.

"We will thank the Emperor for our and your good fortune; we will ask not to be interrupted in the chapel."

Walking through the dark corridors of the schola the missionary remained standing next to something untypical: freshly made holes in the walls only noticed by those living here since a year and with the beginning of gilded letters and frames decorating them, each as big as three human heads.

**"When will the skulls be prepared for the first martyrs?",**

The missionary asked nearly absently, looking at Sister Marina who replied without hesitation:

**"We are still lacking a bit in gold, but we should have soon gathered it…after all many things in this colony have lost their former owner…three to four days missionary."**

Nodding pleased with the answer, Flavia said, before turning around and walking off into another direction, deeper into the complex

**"That's good…as soon as the Alliance forces are leaving, both of you will take ships to other colonies."**

Other people would have looked at the missionary and gaped with their mouths wide open before comically crying: "What?!"

The Sisters only nodded and formed the sign of the Aquila as the Missionary added:

**"Sister Marie, your destination will be a space Station named Omega….and you Sister Marina will travel to the Agri World of Horizon. I have the utmost faith in you and may the Emperor guide your steps."**

**"By your instruction Missionary…Ave Imperator",**

Both of them murmured before turning around and walking to their own rooms, with they intend to ready their own tools and amulets; far before their travel had to start…one can't know how plans will change.

As she saw both of the women hurry down the floor the missionary smiled to herself, she wouldn't even need to leave this planet to do her mission.

When they first arrived she found the amount of data these humans sent from planet to planet amazing….amazingly useless and if only one of those planets would come in contact with the great enemy nothing would stop them, only accelerate the growth of their cults even faster thanks to their communication net and the easy going attitude with which they seemed to suck up foreign ideas.

But now…it had been so easy for herself to come in contact with more clerics of the local religions and while her work on Cyrene might have been one of the quickest, the fact she had only brought a minority over to the Imperial cult might have proved disastrous in the long run.

In a way the attack of the xenos was just the kind of cleansing her more militant brothers and sister had often deployed in such situations, a cleansing fire through which He only brought his faithful.

Her steps felt light as the left the area of the schola which had been funded and built under the eyes of the Council and the blue skinned witched who seemed so easily fouled to see the best there might be. Walking down roughly worked stairs she entered the dark tunnels created by faithful workers over the nights when they weren't working for their tainted employers and their alien costumers.

Her path lead past steel doors, no fancy omni tool locks but old fashioned keys and bolts securing them from the outside while human and inhuman whimpering and cries of pain came muffled from inside of them: since a few hours even the occasional chirping and trilling could be heard…but not for long as the activation rune of a chainsword was activated by someone inside.

Yes, her soul was light, her steps secure and her way favored by Him.

As she opened a heavy oaken door and stepped into a plain but functional conference room, with wooden chairs standing at all sides, giving place to a dozen men and women, even if there was thrice the amount of chairs still empty.

Raising her hands she smiled at them:

"Brothers and Sisters, I'm here to congratulate you for your valour and dedication to the Emperor, you have saved the lives of everyone in this colony. As token of the Ecclesiarchy's bond with you I'm honored to offer you a title of nobility.",

Looking at the disbelief in their eyes she only smiled softly:

"Of course it won't only be a title…land and people will be yours and as you have earned the honor through your valour on the battlefield: each of you will be given the right to field their own heraldry regiments for the glory of the Emperor and govern those lands which fall in your hands."

As she looked at their shocked and silent eyes she grinned even more, her bionic flaring up in dark red, light flickering over the dark walls from which the first gilded skulls down at the assembly shown as a sharp cry of pain…but not that of a human reached them through the wall:

**"There is much work before us…"**

* * *

**To my readers: or rather those which stayed behind after three maybe too long combat chapters.**

* * *

(Does anyone else also think space combat should be...slower? I mean, I think I more love space battles where the fleets have hours and days to prepare them self, weapons will be aligned for broadsides and vectors changed by small degrees to get a better firing position or run.)

**jakejakerel:** We will still see about those two~

**Jouant:** Thank you and: no, still not too much Warhammer ME stomping planned

**Haruka Kasumi:** Yes and Yes and Not immediately.

**Commissar Critical:** It most likely seems like that because I'm wobbly and unsure with writing and would you be so nice to say what seemed dull? I have to say that I got more experience with writing essays about the unification process in bronze age greece than with my chapters.

**RED Roman Pyro:** I hope you don't think they were wasted here~

**ShadowCub:** Most likely, because I feel slightly unwell when writing about violence and death as someone who will most likely never experience something in that regard in my whole life, while there are real people who go through it and not just characters I thought up, I mean: I feel unwell when writing about the progena as child soldiers.

**OBERSERVER01:** Thank you.

**Imperial-Priest Engelbart:** It's only good that the missionary seems to have decided to uses the natives corrupted ways...for the time being: for how else would one priest be able to reach all worlds if not over their bloated communication net? It warms the hearth to imagine a service for His glory being transmitted to all the planets in the citadel space.

**PredatorPuck:** There won't be anyone else arriving, and I think your second question was answered

**Eljin1:** I think you mean Lorgar, quite funny as the Emperor bombarded one of his "holy" cities dedicated to his fathers worship...but the Emperor was a very militant Atheist back then and didn't take that too kindly.

**Lovin it:** Was it Drakon: Of course it isn't fair to punish everything with death...I only need to fine a punishment worse for the more guilty.

**Zealot:** Ohhh, you will see more religious scenes for now, less battles...maybe a tiny bit.

**SanShine:** I think you know your answer~

**KhazintheDark:** Both, a little bit of zealotry, a bit of mutiny and infighting and last but not least a gulf between professionals and fanatics.


	14. Blessed shall be the prepared

**Blessed or those who are prepared, they shall His holy ordinance in plenty.**

"Wait, you're stopping me, but not them? You frakking xeno!",

Amie Davis said hotly as she glared into the red painted face of the Turian guarding the door to the slums of Omega, cursing even more silently too as she watched the door behind the guard opening.

Turning towards her the Turian regarded her for a moment before his mandibles moved lightly into what might have been a patronizing smile on a human face:

"You don't have a grenade launcher, lady. Get lost.",

The xeno dared to say to her and Amie crossed her arms at this, giving him a heated glare, which the turian seemed to ignore pointedly, instead looking at the small group of three he wanted to let inside:

They were led by a woman wearing a rather dull grey armour, seemingly shifting its colour a tiny bit from time to time, which made her a bit distracting to look at against the dark material of Omega's walls, as one sometimes couldn't really be sure where wall and woman started or ended.

She was accompanied by two other persons, next to her was a dark skinned man, he reminded her a bit of Brother Anytos, with short dark hair, the beginnings of a beard and a solid overall solid build which just seemed to scream "military"…she had had opportunities to see something similar to that for herself in the last few weeks.

The third companion in the group was a bit….uhhh…let's say weird to see even on Omega: outside of the Afterlife that is. Amie really couldn't imagine why any woman would run around in a suit like that, especially on a station like Omega, were armour was your everyday outfit anyway.

Not that the woman wouldn't fit into the afterlife's entertaining ranks: envy had to be honest when it came to her looks, she seemed to have been truly gifted in the genetic lottery.

But one thing made Amie a bit nervous and a small voice in the back of her mind was trying its best to curse: mutant, mutant – beware the malformed.

What else could the woman be? She wasn't armoured and was only armed with a pistol while the two other members of the group carried guns: the darker one had an assault rifle and the helmeted woman a sniper rifle. That practically screamed: biotic! Witch! As it was not far away from the way the blue skinned xeno witches dressed and fought…and no one wants to get close enough to them to be shredded by a biotic charge usually.

"Fortunately, humans are immune to the plague.", the dark haired mutant said in a surprisingly rich voice, only surprising because it seemed to be…unnatural for someone to have been born with so much perfection in her appearance and demeanour.

Just as the group was about to step through the open door Amie stepped forward, turning to face the single man in the group saying quickly:

"You are searching for the Salarian doctor? I can get you to him!",

She declared quickly, trying to smile as she ignored the scowl of the turian guard, before continuing: "I know a way past the blue sun and the vorcha, honest! Just let me come along and I will introduce you to some friends who…"

"Whoa Whoa, slow down…I'm not sure if this is a good idea, look here: we can't simply take you inside if the guards do n-…",

the man began and she felt a small pang of disappointment…which quickly faded as pain cursed through her body and she felt herself pulled backwards on her shoulder as said guard had pulled her back, before beginning again:

"Let those people go, I already told you, it's for your own best that you can't get in, you will be either killed by the vorcha, the blue suns or…", he didn't get much further because Amie stomped down on his talons, not really paining him but at least making holding her uncomfortable enough for Amie to slip out of the grip and quickly reach under her working clothes, pulling a small chain out: "Look here! I'm with the Cult!",

She cried at him, raising the silver double headed eagle of prey for him to see, at which his scowl only worsened and he tried to swipe it out of her hands while shouting:

"Why should I care about that you idiot human! My orders are to let no one in and no one out, it doesn't matter if your head cultist has given Aria a Collector head for her bar or not, I d-"

"A Collector head?", a sharp voice suddenly said, The icy detachment in its tone, silencing both of the adversaries who looked surprised to the side as the grey armoured woman stepped in between them, metal clad hands pushing both of them to the side

Suddenly Amie found herself looking into her own slightly fearful face: mirrored in the dark visor of the woman's helmet and the icy voice once again said with a strange intensity:

"Tell me about it…where did it come from? Who gave it to Aria?"

Her whole body trembling as she averted her gaze, Amie gulped nervously before trying to distance herself, there was a strange tone in the woman's voice, maybe a bit of insanity, she didn't know, but the simple chilling voice without much further emotions displayed in it was…putting her on an edge, it would have been far more easier if the woman would have simply grabbed her shoulders or shouted at her.

"It…it hangs in the back of Aria's lounge…..she can point at it if she wishes to…she found it…amusing, as the collectors are widely regarded as drawn back….and puzzling.",

Amie said quickly, remembering her own marvelling back then when that strange procession went through the station and towards the afterlife:

* * *

_It had been a day like any other, she was just going back into the slums after her shift at one of the local "recycling centres": simply dismantle everything which gets put on your work station and do not ask from where it comes from._

_Her bag wasn't filled with many credits, but she had slipped a part or two into her pockets to sell them to her neighbours in the slums, after all this was Omega, her employer was even simply closing one eye when she and the others gathered the more negligible parts after work._

_Exiting the air-bus which had carried her and her colleagues from the depths of the tumour like growing sprawls of "industry", which filled the bowels and niches of Omega with workshops at every step, Amie joined into the bustling traffic between the Afterlife and the living quarters, trying to appear as unobtrusive as possible._

_On Omega one needed to live without attracting attention, as almost always it was the wrong sort of attention one gained in the end: she only had to think of poor Marc who arrived together with her at Omega and who had been her roommate for nearly a year, before he attracted the attention of a group of asari maidens from Eclipse._

_And one day he simply didn't come back to their room and when she checked in for her shift she asked the foreman if Marc had gone home yet or not._

_He seemed to have exited the workshop after his shift, but then never arrived at their home: at that point Amie was stricken with worry and had tried to find anyone to help her…looking back she could see that this might have been the point at which she really grasped that no one cared about what you did on Omega, no one would help her or investigate into her friends disappearance, they would simply shrug and say: this is Omega._

_Maybe it was only a small mercy, but she still thanks the Emperor for the certainty she had finally gotten in regards to Marc: by hearing a group of Eclipse sisters whine and shout about Jaroth having broken their newest fuck toy._

_She had known the worth of being unnoticed in the masses of mingling people and xeno which filled Omega's streets and she had always tried to fit into the brown and orange tones the working class of the station wore all around the clock and to a degree she had grown used to it: a fact which made her stop and stare at that day._

_It wasn't only her, all around the new arrivals, people were stopping and staring: as a young blonde woman stepped out of the docking area: she was tall and lithe build, her face seemed to be set in a serene mask as she walked through the people who parted at both sides, even if a sea of calculating eyes followed her highly visible white and red clad form and paid special attention to the large and heavily ornate necklace with the nearly fist sized icon of a bird of prey of sorts._

_Even if it was only gilded…today she knew better of course….people were killed for far less on Omega and it only served as a deterrent for any thoughts in that direction when an entourage of six black armoured menacing figures followed the white dressed woman, each bearing a long rifle with a wicked looking knife on their ends….something which brought some laugh's from the mercenaries in the crowd as they regarded that with the same amusement they usually saved for recruits who had watched too many holo-vids._

_Far more interesting, in the same way the gold on the leading woman was wearing, were the two attendants following the woman: one young man and a girl, both wearing similar cut robes and instead of the golden icon they had the same bird of prey weaved into the white of their clothes with silver threads._

_Not that their clothes were the centre of attention: it was the wooden box they were carrying between them. Wood of all things! Amie couldn't even remember the last time she had seen real, organic wood instead of the prefabricated plastic and metal alloys which were so much cheaper to buy and easier to work with._

_The box seemed to be of a darker complexion and even in the distance she could see carvings artfully worked into the wood, depicting….lots of figures, she wasn't that sure what any of them were showing…but some seemed to have small eyes set in with glass and there were either two or four per head._

_What could be inside that thing? The small procession was heading straight for the Afterlife and if something expensive and most likely rare was transported into that direction there was no doubt about the identity of the recipient._

_Still the box was barely big enough to fit…_

* * *

"..a head inside.", she ended the sentence she had begun in the middle of her reminiscence her eyes once again finding themselves staring back at their own mirror image in the faceless helmet before her.

"Where did they get it from?",

Came the next question, quite simply in fact, as if the person simply listened to her answer and then went through the next point on her list…quite a change to have someone listening to her…..except the Confessors of course.

"I do not know…you would have to ask Sister Marie or one of the Tempustus Scions who came with her….something about an attack…",

Amie replied after a moment, hoping that being truthful with this woman might be her best bet, regarding the looks of the other two it was clear she called the shots.

"They visited one of the attacked colonies?",

The woman asked her now and Amie noticed that it wasn't really the icy tone of her voice which made her uncomfortable: it was the slightly synthesized edge which was carried out of the speakers she now noticed on each side of the helmet. She would also wager that there was a bit of distortion in play, as if the woman wouldn't want to be recognized.

"No…I mean…I think not…they told us they got it when their colony was attacked…",

Amie said a bit helplessly, after all Sister Marie had once transmitted the image of Missionary Sophana, who was building up the Cult on the moon Cyrene, into their little chapel and she had found herself listening rapidly at the at first smooth and then steadily rising force behind the preaching voice coming out of the hologram emitter the Sister had installed on the isle above the chapel.

"Nonsense, there were no indications for another raid, if there would have been survivors the Alliance and the Council would surely have tried to play it up as the first step towards stopping the abductors by identifying them.",

the dark skinned man suddenly said and shook his head giving her a light smile as if that would help after being called out as someone who tells…or at least believes and tells tales like that.

"Not if that would mean that they had to admit that they didn't care about the already lost colonies, even if they were outside of the Systems Alliance, the fact that only human colonies were targeted shows that…",

the muta...ehhh…..dark haired entertainer called in from the side, crossing her arms under her needlessly displayed breasts….honestly, she wouldn't even dare to think about the things that could happen when walking through Omega clad like that…suddenly she blinked and blurted out:

"…someone is targeting our race in particular…Sorry?",

The last part came out a bit sheepishly as a set of slightly annoyed blue eyes gazed at her and she quickly raised her hands in meek surrender towards the eye candy of the little group...after all it was eye candy which could tear her apart molecule by molecule.

"No, you are right, telling the people out there that someone like the collectors, a big damn mystery, is interested in them, won't be well taken by the general population…I would bet the Alliance hopes to solve the problem without hanging a lantern on it. ",

The soldiery typed man said with a thoughtful expression as he glanced at the once again silent woman with the sniper rifle, as if waiting for her to drop her thoughts into the pool too….too bad that a slightly forgotten figure butted in and drawled now with less good natured annoyance:

"Ahem….as interesting as your conspiracy theories are….that's a quarantine zone and as long as you are standing there and chitchatting the door is open, so you three should hurry up and…",

The red faced turian didn't get to talk like this when she was so close to….urggs! Exploding Amie cried out:

"Hey! Didn't you listen, you freaking metal bird? They are taking me with them."

Less than amused at this the guard raised his rifle to poke her into the belly, pushing her backwards, as he repeated with a slowly becoming weary tone:

"Now, now, as I said: it's for your own protection that you stay here and I'm sure you haven't pulled out a grenade launcher yet, So I would advi-",

Just as he was about to press the muzzle against her again, cool metal touched his own metallic skin as the armoured woman had her sniper rifle out in one fluid movement, unfolding it and pressing it against the bottom of his chin as a small laugh escaped the speakers and she said:

"She's coming with us…it this…enough? I wouldn't want to make a mess with a grenade launcher after all….A nice clean bullet will make far less of a mess, wouldn't it?"

Staring into the inhuman blank visor, the turian tried to nod…but only flinched as that pressed his hard chin against the sniper barrel and he quickly rasped:

"…uhh….yes….quite…very…impressive arguments…",

Spreading his arms out to the side to show that he wasn't going to try jumping that scary bitch, he let out a long held sigh as she let go and sunk backwards against the wall of the corridor, his mandibles flaring as he waved towards the door, eager to be ride of them again.

"Ohh~ Thank you~",

Amie chirped in good humour and gave him a smug look as she walked to the side of the only man in the group, feeling a bit safer around him than near those two strange women.

The turian only shook his head and said:

"Ohh damn you, just go inside and get eaten by vorcha! What do I care!",

With that he simply watched the group enter the slums, the heavy door falling into place behind them and with a small curse directed at the ancestors he shoved himself of the ground and back to his post, straightening his back as he let his watchful eyes look up and down the hall way: it was a quarantine zone…no one entered.

Yes, it was very important to stretch the last part out…thank the spirits he wasn't one of the poor bastards who had to guard the barricade, since the quarantine started the slums were….different.

"So…I'm Amie Davis…and you are?",

The native, so the speak, said idly as they left the small barricade behind them which closed the slums of from the rest of Omega, now they were walking through dark and deserted halls, while the sound of gunshots echoed until it reached their ears from time to time.

"The people with a grenade launcher.",

Came the surprisingly…amused sounding voice from the leading woman, who had started to check all passing buildings and stores as soon as they became visible, as if…not as if: she was obviously military, that kind of behaviour: looking out for ambushes must be natural for her.

"As the commander said…but she made me carry the heavy thing of course.",

The single man in the group said with a good natured smile, which only earned him a scoffing from the cat-suited model to his side and Amie`s lips were conflicted between a smile and a small frown at his evasion.

Walking forward to the leading woman she tried to appear relaxed, but Amie had not forgotten the woman's action against the turian guard…and appearing relaxed in a group of people who looked at the deserted streets warily and tense wasn`t easy either.

"So…you are the commander….and what are these two then?",

She finally asked, trying to keep her voice a bit vague at the start, only to end with a small smile as she nodded towards those two.

Waiting for a moment Amie simply held her smile, only hearing the crackling of fire coming closer as the smell of smoke intensified and only slowly her lips slipped into a frown again as she urged the silent commander:

"Come one, I know you are military, are you Alliance spec ops or something?"

As soon as she said her words, Amie stumbled backwards, not because someone had shoved her, but because the commander had stopped walking at the mention of the Alliance and walking into an armoured person who didn`t want to budge, when you just tried to appear calm and relaxed in your walk, isn`t that good for your balance.

But as such she had a good point of view as the man rushed past her and put his hands on the commanders back, urgently whispering something she couldn`t make out. As she tried to push herself up again, the woman was at her side and gave her a healthy glare:

"The commander had a few….stressful events recently, it would be the best if you wouldn`t pester her like that, who we are and why we are here is of no importance to you."

Making a face, Amie pushed herself up and shook her head as she glared back at the model or whatever she was…maybe a robot? It simply wasn`t natural.

Shaking her head she replied as she continued on the way:

"Of course it`s of importance to me, you could be heretics for all I know and I`m leading you to His faithful."

For a moment everyone looked at her puzzled, even the commander who had stopped trying to crush her armoured gloves with her own hands. Shaking her head at their clueless expressions Amie said:

"Frakk this, I only want to know your names so I can call you something else other than…",

She shrugged and pointed at the black haired woman "Pin-up", then at the man "Soldier-boy" and finally at the armoured person "Commander."

Now dubbed Pin-up seemed to redden in anger…or annoyance, she wasn`t sure…not that it was good either way with a…most likely…biotic and Amie was only glad as a laugh filled the awkward silence which had come over them and the man offered her his hand:

"Jacob, it´s nice to meet you Amie….and the most dangerous person you must have made angry in your whole life…",

He threw the woman in the suit a grin: "…would be Miranda…but don`t try calling her Miri or anything like that, it wouldn`t end well.",

he leaned forward in a conspiratorial whisper: "Believe me… I tried it."

Miranda Lawson for her part only huffed a bit annoyed and gave Amie a curt nod before walking past her and taking the lead of the small group as the commander let herself fall back and also offered her hand, which Amie only took with slight hesitation:

"I`m Alexandra, feel free to shorten it how you wish…people generally don`t use it anyway.",

She said with some dry humour and a non-caring shrug, even if there was also something else in her tone Amie couldn't quite make out.

Giving a slight nod in return she grew silent as the group continued, carefully looking out for any ambush by either group of mercenaries.

But they saw no one and the halls seemed utterly deserted, only the smoke seemed to become thicker and they could easily imagine the groan of tortured metal coming from somewhere inside the walls being caused by the overburdened environmental system.

The coughing which started to spread over those without helmets on their head….or years in which they could grow used to Omega`s worst pollution like Amie…soon give away to grimaces and appalled looks at the smoke's origin, as they found themselves walking past Quadratic pits, filled with bagged corpses which burned like macabre logs and filled the air with a thick black smoke.

"They….are burning the corpses….ughhh….it stinks…",

Jacob gasped as his dark skin lost its colour and he quickly reached up covering his nose as he seemed to grow ill. Miranda looked a bit better, but she seemed just as unwell and it was clearly visible that she wanted nothing more than to quickly leave this place.

"At first the other xenos tried to get rid of the illness by that….but those which handled the burned died next and no one dared to continue the work.",

Shrugging coldly at the slightly mortified idea of things like that happening….after the time of the Black Death….Amie continued:

"Now some of the brothers and sisters are keeping the fire burning to keep the zone as clean as possible before…normal pandemics break out."

As the group shook themselves out of the shock they wanted to continue but Alexandra stopped and turned to look into a corner behind one of the large smoking piles, walking towards it, even as Miranda stopped and turned away, unwilling to endure more of the stench filling her nose with the smell of burnt flesh.

Hearing a weak sounding coughing just behind the wall of smoke rising up from the pile of badly burned bodies, the sniper crouched down as she spotted the batarian male leaning against the wall for support, while his four eyes moved without focus until slowly settling on her.

"What…..do you want…human….here to steal my things….",

He growled but the words quickly ended in another coughing fit as he clutched his chest and red blood spurted out of the openings batarians had instead of a nose.

Trying to push himself up he slurred with sickness visible even in his dark dull eyes without irises:

"Was it not enough that you…that you brought this plague onto us….now you are looting and…finishing us off…"

As Amie stepped closer and watched with a light frown as Alexandra kneeled down next to the four eyed xeno, touching the side of his head even as he struggled weakly against the touch.

"Humans did not spread the plague. Let me help you.",

She said in a surprisingly gentle tone and Taylor who had also come closer looked at the miserable figure of the batarian with pity.

He on the other hand, struggled and tried to push the cold touch of the armour away from his sickly wet skin as the blood dripped over his chin.

"You humans…are the only ones immune to the plague…except the vorcha…and they are little better than animals…they wouldn`t have the means to…to engineer…"

Whatever else he wanted to say drifted off as three of his four eyes closed and his mouth remained half open, drool dripping onto his chin as the commander stood up again and looked over to Jacob with a helpless wave at him:

"Can we give him some medi-gel?",

She said with a strangely warm undertone, expressing her sympathy as she wanted to do something helpful, to which Jacob nodded with a grabbing motion into his pocket.

"Yes Commander, if we would give him one of our three-",

He started to say while pulling the medi-gel container out of its place, but was then interrupted by Amie who threw a disdainful glance at the batarian and shrugged, while saying:

"It won`t help…or did you really think no one has tried that yet?",

Seeing their slightly off put faces she shook her head once again:

"It`s pointless, if you really want to waste it you can give it to the xeno.",

Frowning lightly she pointed to the pit burning next to them and then nodded to the batarian:

"It would be far more useful if you would throw him into the fire right now, it would give one of the cleaning crews less work to do."

Staring at her with shocked eyes, at least she presumed it from the sudden silence under that spooky helmet; both of them faced her incredulously:

"You want us to….burn him alive?",

Jacob stammered after a few moments and the commander seemed to give her another piercing glare….but right now Amie didn`t feel afraid of it, after all they had thought about helping a xeno of all things: they had to be weak willed xeno-lovers who do not have the stomach to either face reality or to walk upright in honour of their human heritage.

"Then shoot a bullet through his head or leave him be.",

She said coldly and turned around, walking back past the burning corpses, without sparing a glance at the charred black flesh or the exposed bits of alien bones.

Behind her Taylor looked a bit helpless towards the commander who shook her head and gestured him to carry on. Folding his rifle he kneeled down next to the batarian and injected the medi-gel into him, stepping back with a relieved sigh as his breathing steadied slowly but certainly.

"We should get him out of the smoke….do you have any idea why he is lying here? The smoke must be poison in his condition.",

Taylor said with puzzlement but the commander simply pointed at his neck, towards a necklace adorned by a caste symbol…and then nodded towards the topmost corpse on the pile, with a nearly identical piece of jewellery wrapped around the rests of its neck.

"Family….friend…someone.",

Alexandra said slowly and then stood up, leaving a handkerchief on the batarians face, before touching Taylors shoulder and pulling him towards the waiting Miranda and Amie, who was now glaring at them mistrustfully as she crossed her arms and snapped:

"So you wasted it on the xeno? Pfff….simply hope you won`t need it in the next firefight…the mercenaries are still fighting all over the place if you haven`t noticed.",

She said and pointed towards the end of the corridor with a grimace:

"Kokomo Plaza is that way….it's the shortest route to your salarian.",

She said and stressed the word salarian in a way others would have spit out murderer or rapist.

Nodding towards another door at one of the buildings she said:

"Or if you are not too much of xeno-lovers you can come with me and travel through the region held by the Imperial cult, the side streets will also bring you to the doctor and are not full of fighting mercenaries."

Looking up surprised at the woman's acid tone, Miranda raised an eyebrow on her slightly sweaty face, only feeling a bit better now that they went away from the pyre's smoke:

"What`s with your mood change? You sound as if the commander did something terrible to offend you."

Throwing Miranda a dirty look Amie nodded "She helped a xeno….what greater slight is there against the Emperor`s sacrifice and humanity's struggle?"

"Only slowly….I`m not fond of those four eyes either, but they are living and sentient beings just like us.",

Jacob tried to say soothingly, even if he was from Cerberus, that didn`t mean he did not see most of the aliens as people who also tried to live their life in some way.

"The xeno is nothing like us! They are out to exterminate humanity, to enslave us or to turn us into their pawns and playthings: just look around!",

Amie spat hotly and glared at Jacob ignoring his efforts to calm the situation down again as she pointing with her hand at the broken open and sometimes even falling houses.

"Can`t you see how all of them decided to prey on us humans as soon as the slum was quarantined? Doesn`t that show you the malicious nature of them?",

She said firmly and glowered at him with a burning look as if condemning him for even daring to think otherwise.

Before Jacob could open his mouth again to antagonize their local guide, even if her beliefs seemed to be more…extreme than the ones she heard even from Terra Firma.

"That is a broad generalization.",

She interjected with a calm voice, touching the agitated woman`s shoulder with her heavy gloved hands, trying to gesture Jacob to let the matter drop right now.

While he did so, Amie strained against Alexandra's grip and simply continued with venom in her voice:

"And? Does that make it less true? A xeno will always care more for a member of its own species and they will mug you just to get your things when you walk through one of the wrong alleys….this is Omega and you can see everywhere that the xenos tend to stick together to kick us around."

Giving them a glare, daring them to say anything, Amie turned to face Jacob as he opened his mouth again, even at the warning movement of Alexandra.

"Yes….but in Council space at least…",

He began barely before Amie snapped with a pissed off attitude:

"Now I call bullshit, if it wouldn`t have been for Shepard the Council would still have been dominated only by three of the xenos with humanity being at best a junior member."

The commander chose the moment to intervene again, not even sighing as she stepped before Amie, blocking her scornful glare with grey armour.

"This discussion brings us nowhere….",

She said in an attempt for diplomacy, even if her voice didn't seem used to this role as she shook her head and pointed towards the Kokomo Plaza

"I can understand how it must seem to you living in here Amie. So let's not fight about this issue and better go to your people before one of the mercenaries run into us."

Giving her a tight clipped nod with her lips pressed into a thin line Amie turned on her heels and hurried into a small side alley not sparing another glance at them as she hurried down a slippery set of stairs and then took a left turn into a maintenance tunnel of sorts: dry nearly waterless air hitting them as they moved through it, dark metal shining in the light of a few spare lamps still hanging here and there, some being even small glass bowls with a candle of sorts burning inside of them.

With a quick step the group moved through the guts of Omega, past multiple intersections with ladders not only allowing one to move to the right or left, but also up and down, the only thing one could hear being the sound of fans in the distance and their own heavy steps.

"How do you know where you are heading?",

Miranda asked as they stopped at another junction and Amie headed down the left path without even glancing at the other possible directions, pulling her head down for a pipe….against which Taylor promptly walked and stumbled backwards again with a wince….and Amie was totally not smirking at that one, woe unto those who would say otherwise.

"The Emperor guides me…and I read about an Imperial Hero who might have grown up in an **Underhive** himself.",

She said simply without turning back to the black-haired woman, simply side stepping an empty crate as they stepped out of the tunnels, finding themselves in a big clearing of sorts: a cavern in the guts of Omega which lead to another street just like those above, one of the many interlaid living quarters the slum was made of.

But unlike the empty streets above, this one was bustling, people where shuffling from one direction to another, carrying bags and crates, not even one of them idling around on the street without purpose as the crowd pushed its way from house to house, alley to alley.

"You didn't expect this, did you?",

their guide quipped amused and with a hint of pride as they walked towards the only thing cutting them off from the milling mass of humans….and solely humans as the commander noticed quickly, her eyes taking in the obstruction on their way: the bastard child of a bunker and a garbage litter maybe?

She had seen quite a few strange things before her death, but this? Her mind quickly raced to try taking the image, in: calculating the area, which the fire slits on the five sides of the slightly slopped bunker could bring to bear against them.

It didn't look that good: while maybe mostly two or three weapons could come to bear on them on a frontal assault, the checkpoint leading to the habituated streets was guarded by two of those makeshift constructs, with a sandbag wall or something similar connecting them and only leaving a small gap to calmly walk through.

The slits made into the walls, which seemed to be armoured with the severed walls of crates and thereby resistant to small arms fire at least, where small enough to shove a barrel through it and from what she could see, six of them seemed to be permanently pointing at them and….was that a Gatling gun?

She was already starting to calculate the best trajectory which might just hit a gunner behind it, when two black armoured slim figures where stepping from the shadows of one bunker, carrying far too long rifles in their hands and…was that a wooden stock?

Amie seemed to know what was going on, so Alexandra was content with watching for now, her hand resting on the butt of her carnifex, sure that her teammates where doing the same in this moment as she watched those three change words in another language….one of which her implant wasn't translating right now.

Tilting her head a little to the side to face Miranda with the plate of her helmet, the commander only got a slightly clueless, but also annoyed shrug as the Cerberus agent tried to make out the words which were spoken before them.

The exchange seemed to be over after some moments and all three of them intoned some sort of wording at which they all lowered their head and crossed their hands before their chests.

Giving Taylor a small nod, who continued to watch the dark figures with keen eyes, Alexandra walked slowly towards Amie as the guide turned around and smiling lightly…even if a bit strained:

"We nearly missed the meal…Sister Marie will talk to you afterwards; if you would follow me please?",

She asked and started to walk past the makeshift fortification, giving the three person fire team a weak smile as they nodded down the street.

Reluctantly following her Taylor shook his head as he said:

"We don't really need this too commander, our primary goal is to get Doctor Solus. I mean…I would doubt that this is even really a collector head they brought to Aria…It's a bit silly to…"

He didn't get much further because a hand had grabbed his wrist and was now holding him in a vice like grip: the dark face plate of the commander only inches away from his face as an ice cold voice slowly said:

"Charles Pressley, Roberta Dreico, Carl Emery, Addison Crosy….shall I tell you the names of the other seventeen crew members too Taylor?",

The voice whispered nearly tenderly as the pressure on his wrist became even worse and he found himself gasped as the voice pierced into his mind like ice:

"You will not question me at this….they are no fairy tale….and they will pay for the murder of my crew…all leads will be looked at: understood soldier?"

"Yes Ma`am…..", he was able to press out before the pressure left his wrist and his other hand reached for it, clutching the bruised wrist. Giving him a last glance, the commander turned and walked after Amie as if nothing had happened, boots echoing as they kicked against the dull metal of the station.

Only a moment later Taylor found Miranda staring down at him, a small frown tugging on her perfect features as she whispered:

"Did we do something wrong?…if Project Lazarus was defective…TIM will want it terminated, we can't have a broken hero."

Shaking his head Taylor slowly stood upright again, massaging his hurting wrist with one hand while replying:

"No…it only shows that you did it perfectly Miranda….she's human…",

Raising his hand to keep her silent he quickly hushed:

"She died…was brought back to life by one of her enemies….attacked by bots as soon as she woke up and then promptly shuffled above a ship looking just like the one where she lost so many friends and her life…..we can be glad she hasn't broken down yet."

Giving him a slight smile, even if it a bit of gloomy to think about things like that, Miranda nodded and strolled after the commander:

"Then I will take this as proof that her cybernetic implants are working just fine….and her strength is up to par to crush wrists.",

She said to Taylor as she hurried into the bustling life of the street, her partner quickly following her and leaving the checkpoint behind…never noticing that he had taken his eyes off the two guards and that a small helm mounted camera had documented their whole exchange.

Even now the data was being sent through the nods installed all throughout Omega and thanks to the pirate Queens's favour they went through the com buoy as high priority. With more than the speed of light the message was sent from relay through relay, carried on tight laser beams, just until…

* * *

…a small chirp made Antonio Grimlay look up…or at least try to as even the smallest movement sent shocks of pain along his spine….he wasn't sure if they had broken it….he felt the iron still grinding against his skin and greedily sucking in air whenever he moved and it broke more of his flesh.

"Good evening Mr Grimlay.",

Said a civil voice and he looked up…with his one good eye, the other one now being only a burned out empty eye hole with the burned and cauterized remains of a once good eyeball stick sticking into it….itching from time to time.

Another one eyed person looked at him…but this was where the similarities ended: Missionary Flavia was standing before him straight as an arrow and with her white robe unsullied and her hair flaming bright red as her bionic eye regarded him in company with her sincerely looking smile:

"While I found your obvious interest in the humble lasguns quite amusing…there are now other things of more importance…especially a few more information I want to know of you Mr Grimlay."

He didn't know why: but this woman horrified him more than all of his other torturers put together: was it because she never sullied her hands? Always letting others send him through a new trip of hell. No, it was the pitying…even regretful expression on her face as she regarded him at every visit: like an adult would look at an unruly child who seemed unable to learn its lesson. The way she showed neither joy nor indifference to his pain, but even expressed her hope for him and the "cleansing" effect it would have on his immortal soul.

This woman as simply certain of herself. Certain of her place in the world and of the way it ought to be…all centred around her God-Emperor.

"….what?",

He crooked through his broken teeth, his tongue touching the broken and bloody stumps as he stared down at the filthy ground of his cell…the blood pooling into a small hole dug on one site…his legs nailed to the wall….spreading his body over a cold steel imprint of the Imperial Aquila….while a furious vision of the Emperor was looking down at him, whenever he raised his eyes to look on the other wall: its eyes blazing as if crying: "Repent!"

"Do you know this woman?",

The missionary said and an image appeared just below the image of the Emperor, filling all of the wall…the quality wasn't good…subpar to most of the current technology he knew but….you never knew with these Imperials….at one moment they seemed like barbarians and in the other…..DEW using barbarians….

"Lawson…Miranda….",

He barked hoarsely, his throat burning, cried raw from the pain before.

The missionary only nodded and reached for her side, pulling her own flask off her belt and unscrewing it before she stepped closer and looked into his eyes, her bionic flaring up just as the cold water gushed down his throat, soothing the hurting flesh with its coolness.

Slowly she whispered to him

"Now Antonio…..a wise saying is:** The worst enemies are those we make ourselves.**"

Smiling lightly she stared deeply into his eyes:

"You don't want me as an enemy do you?", not even waiting for him to whimper something she simply grinned broader:

"Why don't you show me the way to the guardian of the underworld?"

* * *

**For the Readers (Who thankfully made me notice I uploaded the uncorrected version first!):**

* * *

douchiesnacks: Thank you

jakejakereal: I was a bit unsure about the perspective change beings silly, but thank you. I thought Mass effect battles were more like artillery duels~

LordGhostStriker: For Emperor, Imperium and Humanity!

Lovin it: Hope you weren't to disappointed in my Shepard then.

RED Roman Pyro: Ok ok~ I think I got that people do not want three chapter long combat scenes~

Imperial-Priest Engelbart: For Him.

Jouaint: Thank you

Commissar Critical: Then I hope you didn't find any in this one, even if it was more of a filler.

OBSERVER01: True enough, but I know books were its quite interesting to see that engagements take hours and days of maneuvering, only for both fleets to rush past another near light speed.

KhazintheDark: Which was the idea why two frigates were dispatched to get a sensor reading and play bath before the rest of the squadron jumps the collectors.

PredatorPuck: Horizon would be the first planet ;)

Anon: True True...even the armor...

The Praetorian Guard: In this time of strife and with the need of protection...thanks to rampant plagues and xenoes~


	15. Hatred, the Emperors greatest gift (WIP)

**_Only Despair can Defeat us._**

**_This is a non-corrected chapter, so be ready for my catastrophically sentence structure and plain errors which I simply read over because I know what I wanted to write._**

**_As my Beta-Reader hasn't been writing to me since the 18.5 I'm simply going to post it here and hope you can endure till I find him or someone else volunteers to prove read this chapter_**

**_I shall try to see if Beta Readers can be written up as AWOL by the nearest Commissar, so I hope you meanwhile enjoy the chapter anyway~_**

* * *

His hands trembled as they slouched over the keyboard, trembling and stumbling over the holographic interface as he breathed heavily, trying to move as little as possible. After all he still felt the warm liquid running over his neck from his last sudden movement, the razor sharp edge of the bayonet still glistening red under his chin as his omni-tool connected with the extra-net and engaged one of the secure channels set for agents who were…compromised.

A sharp wince escapes him as a barrel was pressed against his side again and a voice called out:

"What is taking so long? You have your connection."

Christoph, second year Chemistry…Antonio Grimlay wheezed air out between his tightly pressed together lips and his hands hit another two buttons to verify his access. A dull pain pulsated through his fingers, half of them bend at odd angles and two even missing the nails, festering with germs or worse as he tried to look away from them. Raising his slightly better off hand he gasped:

"Just a moment….I need to verify my connection before I can do more…"

Biting down on his teeth again, he quickly tipped one the pending signal, cursing under his breath that no one seemed to answer the connection…at first. After some moments a small bar appeared in the lower left of the window and a logo of Cord-Hislop Aerospace appeared just above it, turning and blinking. Letting out a relieved sigh as the logo of the front company Cerberus was using appeared: a good sign, which meant that at least someone was taking the call: obviously the loading bar was only a distraction to allow the other end to scan and clear his omni-tool from any spy ware which could endanger the organization.

Till now everything had gone more or less as it should: the connection had finished and the other side had deemed his omni-tool for secure, even as he connected it with the vid-screen attached to the wall opposite of the raised assortment, which included a desk for the missionary and place for two further progena which raised their number to four in the whole room. Even as he exhaled in small frustration about the lack of even a mere chance to escape, a picture was building up on the wall and as soon as Antonio Grimlay looked up, he felt his hearth stop in shock.

Sitting seemingly relaxed, not minding his audience as he reclined in a metallic chair and watched the truly breathtaking panorama of a dying star, a man with greying hair was taking a drag from his cigar before resting his elbow on the armchair and breathing out savoring before calmly saying:

"Mr. Grimlay, we were already wondering what had happened to you, it seems our worst fears were unfounded and you were able to progress in your mission."

Clenching his teeth Antonio only inclined his head at the praise, not really feeling like his tortured body was a step he had planned in this mission….but The Illusive Man might have if he was answering this call personally instead of his handler.

Bringing his cigar back to his lips as if nothing had happened, he finally called out:

"I presume this is no courtesy call and instead you are only acting as messenger here Mr. Grimlay?"

Nodding ever so slightly at the jab the former teacher started to manipulate the interface of his omni-tool, establishing the connection and only moments later the feed on the Illusive Man's side had been changed to display the missionary and her guards instead of him, an armored glove pulling him back into his seat, while the sharp steel finally left his raw throat.

"That's quite right, Mr. Grimlay was…forthcoming enough to help us facilitate this little talk…after some motivation obviously.",

The missionary said with a charming smile and made a neglectful little gesture with her hand, as if that was enough to explain and discard the notion of his torture as easily as this. Simply continuing she gestured around with a long sweep of her hands:

"From what I have heard so far your organization shares some general principles with the Imperial Cult, which makes you seem touched by the Emperors wisdom even or rather: especially in this God-Emperor forsaken sector of xeno-lovers and heretics."

He didn't really know how, but the missionary seemed to be able to say her words perfectly straight even if they sounded like something out of a bad holo-vid even after more than a year and a half in her surroundings. Naturally the Illusive Man showed indifference at first, after all he was one of the most influential beings in the galaxy: no need offer the hand of friendship too fast and too easily.

"Our organization", he stressed the first word amused, "Was founded after the first contact war…it has shown us the galaxy is full of chances….but also full of dangers for humanity, we are simply trying to be prepared."

"The Universe has a cold, unforgiving heart and cares not for the lives of men.",

The missionary intoned as answer and the progena on both sides of her formed the sign of the Aquila before murmuring as they repeated the words once again. Mr. Grimlay wasn`t sure but if he wouldn't have known it better he would have thought the Illusive man had seemed…taken back? Whatever it was he quickly snapped back and brought the cigar up again to give himself some time as he took the drag, before asking less whimsical than before:

"As this is no try to proselytize me….I hope you had something else to discuss, Missionary Flavia Sophana."

Sitting rigid in her chair, her youthful looking face schooled in impassiveness, said woman reached to the side and pulled out her own heavy laspistol, feeling the familiar weight in her hand as she made a little shoving gesture with it and in the next moment the two progena who had stood behind Mr. Grimly grabbed him and pulled him up and against the wall to the left of the Missionary, keeping him pinned between the two of them.

"What are you…",

The unfortunate teacher was trying to say until his eyes widened as he found himself staring into the dark barrel of the missionaries' laspistol. True, there had been times when he wished for the pain to end, when he had longed for the relief of what he presumed must have been a silent and peaceful drifting away but right now he was shivering in fear at the tool of murder, which would yank his living will from his body. His eyes looked from one person to another, searching for help: his former students? They had already broken his body without expressing any pity or doubt as he groveled in his own dirt. The missionary? She would only try to sooth him with her believe in an afterlife in which he might find "redemption" before her Emperor. Sluggishly as if in slow motion, he turned to face to monitor, his eyes going to the Illusive Man, to whom he felt loyalty strong enough to bring him through the torture and even close to death before finally breaking…wasn't that a two way street? But his boss did not seem to attempt anything even as someone dumped a mass effect barrier wielded on a chest plate over him and the barrier build up with the sound of displaced air. He was only able to let out a last sigh before a bright orange light was spat out and touched his chest without triggering the barrier, the crack of the ionized air simultaneous to the human air with the grizzly hiss of vaporizing flesh as water turned into steam and remains or parts of what was once a human torso blew out and covered the room in gore around the corpse as it fell to the ground.

"I think this was what interested you and your organization, aren`t I right?"

The missionary said as calm and collected as ever, simply pushing her pistol back into her holster, while the two progena grabbed the arms of the body, pulling it out of the room, while the metallic smell of blood filled the air as it gurgled into the drain.

"And what makes you think I would continue the talks with you after you just executed one of my men in front of me?"

The Illusive Man said just as calm as he stood up and brought his cigar up for a last drag before letting his hand hang near his hips as he took the missionary in, two synthetic eyes staring at her one and the second natural orb.

"Isn't that quite clear?",

The missionary said in a nearly amused tone and then reached to her side, taking the rifle out of the hands from the closest Progena, holding it out to the camera and smiling thinly as she pressed the trigger and another long beam of light burned through the air before impacting concrete and leaving an dark pock mark at its impact.

"A hundred of this and more as our manufactorum starts to increase its output, if the Emperor is willing and soothes the machines spirits."

The Illusive Man only looked at her piercingly for some moments, but he was decades too young to unnerve a missionary who had stared down the hateful and murderous glances of chaos worshipping cannibals when he hadn't even been born yet. After some moment he nodded shortly:

"I see…but how do you plan to bring those weapons to us? The Alliance is still watching your colony closely and in its try to keep all information's and facts about the current….menace for themselves."

The missionary simply smiled and inclined her head:

"The Emperor provides…", she said with a amused tone before opening the photo they had also shown , two of the Illusive Mans top operatives and…a certain someone.

"….would those be an acceptable method of transportation?"

The Illusive Man only regarded her for some silent moments before a small smirk formed on his lips, his cigar also finding its way back to them as he takes a long savoring drag and then blows out the smoke into the room:

"We would first of all like a few….examples, those can be given to my operatives on Omega…as for the rest… we will find a way….after you told me what you want in exchange."

"Truly this is not a charity order of the Ecclesiarchy, as such we need your….resources….only a few tools for faithful.", smiling she inclines her head towards the man and says loud and clear:

"For the Glory of the Emperor and for the rightful position of man."

"**For our food we thank you, for our lives we owe Thou.**

**Father in the Heaven who watches over us from his golden Throne,**

**With Your blood you have baptized our kind,**

**Your Might shines as a beacon for us all. **

**We shall not fear the vale of tears and blood before us, **

**We shall light the path you have laid out with our faith and our lasguns.**

**Emperor watch our souls and feel pride in our dedication,**

**None shall strive to disrupt the order you laid down for us and none of your servants shall stray from the path of righteousness.**

**So has it been and so mote it be for all eternity."**

The words drifted over the half-filled mess hall, a quadratic room filled with tables and chairs in long rows and only on one wall a small stage was raised over the floor, holding the makeshift pulpit on which Sister Marie was currently standing and closing her prayer book as she gave the faithful in their chairs a smile as they followed her words and copied them, staggered: "…for all eternity.", drifting over the rows and slowly coming to silence as she nodded pleased at them.

While it was only a basic prayer those converts before her were to be treated like children right now: smile and praise them while showing them the might and hardness ones superiors can display if they feel the need for it.

But right now the missionary had other more…intriguing ideas and even if utilizing technology without the mechanic supervision was….a risk, the Emperor would surely protect them….after all he had sent them here on their own.

As she stepped of the stage, her white robe flowing around her feet as she continued to bear the smile which she had heard was described as caring and gentle, perfect to bring this slightly advanced society back into the folds of the Imperium and the Emperors Light.

Walking through the gathered faithful, she murmured litanies under her breath and watched how they people stared at her either piously, awed or even skeptical: after all this community might have been organized by her but was still more of a refugee center even for those who had not yet seen the one true faith.

Stopping for a moment as she noticed movement to her side, but quickly taking the view before her in stride, Sister Marie stopped between the rows of tables and looked down at the small bundle a woman was holding up to her. Gently reaching out she exposed the little gurgling baby between the linen and smiled the sort of motherly smile she had to wear when meeting the matriarchs of Polux III.

"A wonderful baby, is it a boy or a girl?", she asked the mother, who was glowing with pride at being talked to by a messenger of the Emperor Himself….even if her husband next to her was giving Sister Marie and the child nervous looks….not really a believer yet but still workable, a small part of the Sisters mind quickly whispered as her gaze fell on him.

"It's a girl….we named her Sophie.",

The woman said fondly and let go of the little bundle, as the Sister grasped the child carefully and climbed on the next empty chair, careful not to step on the small emitter fixed on its middle, putting one feet on the edge of the table, while the other remained on the chair, using her trained tall height to look over the few hundred people gathered in the mess hall:

"We live and we thrive, Humanity endures and prospers even in the darkest of hours.",

She began maybe a bit too dramatically but those people around her were used to getting the dregs of live, to be stepped upon, huddled into quarters which were not only tight but also in desperate needs of maintains since a few hundred years maybe: all in all, they were just the sort of audience one was used to after visiting a hive city…maybe without the radiation and poisonous gases, so this might be downright luxurious when shown to some hivers but….not like her current audience would know that.

"This girl isn't born into a clean and opulent quarter, she hasn't seen the medical care and the doctors one would have visited if she had been born on any major planet, not even daring to think upon the luxury and care every child gets on Earth or the Citadel from the mere moment they are born!"

Pausing as she let her gazes sweep over the thoughtful, downtrodden and sometimes even angry faces, she allowed herself a smile and reached into her robe and opened the thrice encased purse she owned. Searching inside the clutter of differently sized coinage: ranging from round to quadratic to even octagonal forms, some made from basic metals: copper, iron or gold, while others were more exotic: crystalline prism's with nearly holographic icons and numbers next to simply indestructible coins made from plasteel or even middle grade ceramite.

"But this is not Earth or any other planet in the System Alliance…",

She continued as her hand closed around a Throne, swiping it into her sleeve as she looked at the baby girl presses against her chest and then back at the people listening to her:

"…I promised you that you will be safe through this plague if you stay with me, have I broken my promise?",

Watching the approving murmuring even from those who were still sceptic towards his one true church, she continued without missing a beat:

"But Why? Why have we persevered down here? Why haven't we all joined those who were foolish enough to stay on their own or spread and scatter into the shafts and tunnels of the underhive, where the xeno vorcha are preying on them: Why haven't we rolled over and died?"

A wry smile touched her lips as she looked around the grim and determined faces around herself, one or two were still downtrodden but they were in the minority: after all no one of those hivers had any reason to regret following her and the Progena into this part of the station…they were alive, or?

"Because our death would spell victory for those striving to destroy us: our lives are the things they eye jealously and with greed: through our survival we make the Emperor proud and stand unbroken before the adversaries, no matter from where they come.",

Raising her hand and arching it over the people she solemnly intoned:

"Beware the enemy beyond just as you beware the enemy inherent in each humans very self: strive to ward yourself of the dark whispers of darkness and the weakness which tries to pull you out of the Emperors Light and away from his Face and humanity."

Quickly shifting to something a bit more…uplifting, she raises the little girl so everyone could see her curious two eyes looking around widely. Surely the mother would take care before character flaws like that could start to take root in the girl: after all only a small mind is a tidy mind.

"Take your meal today in the knowledge that every little act of yours spites at our enemies intention to destroy us: for this plague has driven us down here, turned all of you into pariah's in your alien neighbor's minds and now we stand on our own and on the brink of destruction, may it be from a lack of food, water or the deadly violence of those xeno-mercenaries who try to claim this territories as their own."

Slipping the coin back into her hand and shifting the already readied leather strap with its small and sticky plasteel mounting in her other hand, below the infant, she connected them in a subtle movement, already lowering herself to the ground again and striding back towards the mother. Smiling kindly as she lowered the girl back into the waiting arms and didn't fail to notice the small gasp of surprise the mother did as soon as she noticed the heavy medallion the coin was now forming, the eternal golden throne with the Emperor watchfully sitting on it engraved in the unyielding steel.

"Take up your tools after the meal again and walk proudly out to your work again.",

She said firmly and let her eyes sweep a last time over the people, seeing the burning conviction she was slowly fuelling in some of them and even those who were still doubting were seeing the perks of giving all their being for the task of keeping everyone save….after all it wasn't like anyone who could disagree was allowed to continue…living in the quarantine zone: truly sorrowful how the xeno mercenaries had singled out and killed every leading personality in the community in the first few days, when chaos reigned and people were gunning down each other for food or water.

"Each chore you fulfil serves the survival of us all, so that not only you and me, but also children like little Sophie will see the next day, so that she might grow up into a safe and secure community."

Walking back towards her place and wearing once again a serene expression, which the missionary had trained her to use when she became a "prophet" or "holy maiden" for some neo-barbarians in the past, as she reached out and slowly touched outstretched hands, murmuring small blessings and invocations of the Emperors. Her spirit rose at the equally whispered answer of:

"The Emperor protects.",

Hearing it from dozen of mouths who uttered these words maybe for the first time in their live….it was an elevating experience, touching and feeling a long lost society finding its way slowly and steadily into the Imperial safety again: how could one feel anything but truly blessed to work on the outskirts of the Imperium, bringing the Truth to these lost souls.

Her smile only widened as she sat down on the head table, having been brought on the stage while she was busy between the people, she took the right seat, flanking the empty bigger chair next to her, a small transmitter also placed on it. Looking at her armrest she saw that two of the little lights set into it were already glowing green and with a flick of her fingertips the last one also flared up in a deep green and she settled back as the transmitter on her left jumped to live, just as junior commissar Nowotny and PDF Captain Kranert settled down on her left, the Captain sitting closer to her than the commissar, both of them placing their respective hats down next to their plates and murmured a small apology as they straightened and looked down at the mess hall:

To someone who hadn't been part of a meal at the Imperial Cults respective communities either on Cyrene, Horizon or on Omega, the seating arrangement were….. odd: on all three planets (or moons) the mess halls seemed to be too big when compared to the total amount of people visiting the sermons at the beginning and end of a day and the chairs around a desk were never full on a single planet, only a third of the chairs was used, while the rest was covered with holographic emitters.

It wasn't really a new idea, as holographic parties seemingly became fashion every few years only to be forgotten again, and the buoys gave the opportunity to send nearly endless amounts of data between the truly connected systems, never giving more than two seconds of lag.

As the three buttons lighted up green, signaling that all three members of the Ecclesiarchy had finished their sermons or the short prayers the led and were now ready to being with the meal, the transmitters came to life and suddenly the empty chairs were filled with the holographic projections of other people, people who lived in another community and were now just as close and easily to talk to as ones really present neighbor.

Even if the tables should consist of people from all three places to equal parts….Cyrene still had a bigger population than the community in Omega had converts and Sister Marina's efforts on horizon were only going forward slowly when faced with the obtrusiveness and conservativeness of the farmers on its surface. The missionary had solved that small problem easily: either the seats were filled up with people from Cyrene…on whose faith she build more and more trust and hoped its naïve earnestly to help swaying more souls to the Emperors Throne.

As for the rest…initially skeptical, Sister Marie has soon found the wisdom in the missionaries choice to make a lottery with seats which she posted…or rather let one of the scribes assisting her post on the extra net, as lottery in which interested people could gain the change to meet new peoples and learn more about the Imperial faith. Of course it hadn't gone to well in the beginning: for one there were xeno's, Emperor-damned aliens who tried to find a way into their communal routine….Sister Marie found herself shuddering at the mere thought of this, the blue witch who had dared to tread upon His holy ground on Cyrene had been bad enough.

In the end….while the visitors never really seemed to become drawn into the Cult like the people living here, they were a constant source of publicity and interest, which only increased as they took their opinions and observations out into the extra-net.

With a sigh she turned to the side and inclined her head respectfully towards the missionary, enjoying the thought of using a flamer to cleanse every last databank of this far too liberal and oversized info-net. In the beginning she had spoken about this topic to some of the progena and she had heard a strange saying…while she had nothing against cats, she was sure that in a few…decades maybe she could ask of the missionary to be given time to go on an errant and then she would surely reach her aim, even if people had already looked at her flabbergasted when merely mentioning it.

Adepta Sororitas are experts at purging and if she would get the time, she would put all her experience behind that particular activity and afterwards all parts of this info-net would be cleansed of the rampant pornography…..especially those from a magazine name Fornax or something…

"That was quite….something.",

Taylor said with a strangely thoughtful expression on his dark features as he looked over to the commander and asked in in a silent tone:

"Ma'am…did you meet many religious people?",

Turning toward him the blank helmet stared back for a moment before she tilted her head to the side and looked at Sister Marie who was just walking up to her chair. Seeing that there was still some time she shook her head lightly and replied:

"Some neo Catholics on the Citadel….elsewise…I think Arcturus has some officers, who are also spiritual authorities in their faiths and serve as chaplains on the bigger carriers or dreadnaughts."

Rolling her eyes, Miranda leaned closer to those two and whispered:

"Maybe one out of six Alliance citizens today is having any religion written down in his papers….that outpost on Mars can be thanked for that."

Looking over to his partner, Taylor didn't stare at the perfectly formed face or the plucked eyebrows, but at the eyes, which had an intellect as sharp as a razor:

"One out of six? There must be more, after all the Alliance is still having all of the holidays, which were based on the major religions when humanity first left earth. I know we are mostly atheists but I thought…"

Smiling a bit thinly Miranda asked in her light accent:

"And you think it's a good idea asking me? If you have forgotten it Jacob: I know who my creator is and why my purpose in life was when he created me.",

The last words are tingled with bitterness as she stares at the table, but she shakes her head and ties to snap out of it, only helped as the commander says:

"I think it's similar to the decline the worship of Athame had after the asari left their world, it simply wasn't fitting into a universe filled with diverse life forms, all evolving on different planets and those sentient having their own religions without any connections to Athame…",

With a shrug at the curious expression her teammates were giving her, the commander simply continued with:

"Liara told me about the connection between the Asari's Siari religion…or rather philosophy and their natural ability to meld.",

With a small dry chuckled she added:

"She also said that the asari were not really talking about it but….they seem to have found more and more evidence which points towards the Prothean having connections to the origins of Athame…concepts and art forms which have no predecessors in ancient Asari society."

Miranda laughed silently, only her rising shoulder giving any hint of it:

"Hard to believe into a god if it could simply be a sufficiently advanced alien…say….do I qualify for godhood now…bringing back the death and all?",

She says with a small smile and gestured towards the commander innocently, who only shrugged and leaned a bit closer, some humor in her voice as she coos back:

"Miranda the goddess? Why am I already preparing myself for fire and brimstone falling from the sky?"

The laugh coming from the usual Ice Queen was something which caught Jacob totally unprepared, he was suddenly thinking back to the time when he had meet Miranda and how long he had needed to get her into making jokes with him but the commander… there was something he didn't know and that might also account for the way she had reacted to waking up in a strange laboratory and following the voice of someone she didn't know without doubt….what if they knew each other?

He had to stop his examination as the transmitter on the fourth chair in their little corner suddenly jumped to life as it lightened up and slowly build the holographic image of a man, somewhere in his forties, who nodded friendly to them:

"Greetings Brother….Sisters.",

He said politely and nodded respectfully to each of them before looking down and grasping his spoon, only absently asking:

"You are not hungry?",

One Projection of his eyes staring at what would be an empty table next to him, showing quite clearly that the hologram wasn't restricted to just the person sitting at a table but also the meal and utilities on the surface of said table.

"I see…..visitors?",

The man said idly and took a spoon from the soup before him, leading the meal up to his walrus mustache where it disappeared behind or below the curtain of hair. Watching it in fascination for a single moment….beards were getting rare in this age…Jacob quickly tore his eyes off and nodded before introducing everyone:

"I'm Jacob Taylor….that's Miranda Lawson and we are here with our commander: we were invited and didn't see a reason to say no to the hospitality offered to us."

Setting his spoon to the side the man put his right hand on his hearth and formed half of the sign the others had formed before to great each other; maybe half of the two headed eagle?

"Isaac McCloud, House of McCloud, First Lord of Medicine.",

A sardonic smile formed below his mustache as he stared at the three doubtful faces looking at him and he winked lightly:

"I swear on the Emperor and his saints that I'm not making this up.",

Chuckling lightly he shrugged and helped himself to another spoon full of warm soup:

"I'm the single surviving surgeon and doctor on Cyrene and in the aftermath of the Invasion I was gentled by the missionary in the name of the Ecclesiarchy and the Emperor."

A bit surprise by his….dismissal of what sounded like a either fairly ridiculous or batarian title, the small group shifted a bit to give each other enough space, while staying comfortable close to the doctor, ready to fish for information's. But while it was a learned and more or less detached duty for Jacob and Miranda, the commander had her own demons urging her forward as she leaned closer to the hologram again:

"You said….Invasion, I heard something happened on Cyrene but the System Alliance is trying to keep it quiet.",

Looking up from his plate again, the doctor only nodded slowly and then thoughtfully looked to the side:

"So they haven't given an official statement yet or published the numbers of death?",

He asked in a slightly bitter and hard voice at this and waved the glances directed at him off with a weary sigh:

"It was already months ago and we still can't talk to any news team about it…like this I was responsible for phoning the family of those, whose remains we could identify after the fighting and them being exposed to space….damn four eyed xeno's."

Her hands tightening to fists inside her gloves as her blank face mask stared unwavering at the projection, the doctor noticing that obviously and setting his meal aside as he invited her with a small flick of his hand:

"I'm not feeling hungry anymore anyway: simply ask what you want to know….it was personal for you, or?",

Nodding without any more words Alexandra followed the prompt:

"Rather…they killed some people close to me and….took time from me I can never get back.",

Laughing ugly the doctor nodded solemnly:

"Ugly bugs aren't they? You ever saw one or did you simply hear a buzzing sound before they got you and your colony?"

Shaking her head the commander rested her hands on her lap, trying to ignore how she was slowly crushing the spoon she had picked up at some point before.

"They destroyed my ship…..not everyone came off quick enough and I was wounded quite….severe…."

The big mustache popped up and down with a nod…approvingly:

"And now you are trying to get payback and revenge?"

"Yes",

That was the simply answer when she had woken up and found her second chance in life, but now, even as the feelings burned in her chest, she had caught herself again and added with conviction,

"…. That and the try to safe others from the same faith….the colony of Freedoms Progress was also hit some days before."

The doctor's eyes became dark and her said with a flat voice, all emotion leaving his face as it was his turn to form fists with his hand:

"Survivors?"

Shaking her head, more to Miranda and Jacob, as the good doctor clearly wasn't only a mere good natured physician, she raised a finger.

"A quarian who saw the whole thing and got what happened on video…",

McClouds eyes became thoughtful, but never wavered, even staring right at her own, even through the blank black helmet:

"Four eyed insectoids with big heads spiriting away the colonists in boxes not bigger than coffins?"

Nodding at his observation and hoping for more insight into what happened at Cyrene she mentioned some of the….hypotheses they had from examining the evidence:

"Organic technology, EW skills high enough to totally wipe clean the electronic devices of the whole colony as long as they were networked."

Reaching up and tugging at the corners of his beard he stared at her, sharp and hard as his eyes tightened a little:

"Bipedal….not all are equipped with kinetic barriers and a sort of…presence able to boost their powers and make them truly sentient."

Now truly intruiged by whatever combat related she could gleam from him….after all she wouldn't want to let the death of crew members like Navigator Pressley go unpunished and a few death Collectors might help a great way on that front….but then she frowned and asked:

"That yes…but for the rest, me and my team haven't gotten into a fight with them yet and…sentient?"

With a grim nod he added only one or two more details, not minding the way the background noises were slowly dying down as people finished their meal and murmured small prayers before standing up and hurrying back to their posts.

"Yes…those we have seen on our colony seemed to have been nothing more than drones….or attack dogs, the missionary compared them with Tyranids, some kind of super-Rachni: employing troops which were cunning but without intelligence and self."

Ignoring the question of how the missionary, whoever he or she was, knew of something like Super Rachni…without being a madmen or woman…. She latched onto the more important facts:

"And the Collectors where like this?"

Twirling the edge of his mustache thoughtfully, McCloud closed his eyes as he tried to banish the images raising from his subconscious…burned and bloody corridors….arm and legless drones stumbling and crawling towards him and the medics….his pistol barking again and again as golden blood splattered against the grey walls of a finished home…chittering noises following each bullet…

"Yes...while they felt pain or at least reacted to it with noises, they didn`t stop and no wound, as long as it does not cut their limbs of their bodies, will stop them from fighting."

Now truly…worried, the Commander looked at him waiting for more even as she expressed her doubts:

"A body can't endure that kind of damage…at least not for long."

Laughing without any humor the Lord nodded but then stared at her again and said with a honest expression without any amusement or mocking:

"True a normal human maybe not…..but what about you Commander Sheppard? What is needed to keep you down?"

Ignoring the worried glances from her two teammates or the way they brought their weapons closer to themselves, even after listening just as closely to the words as her, they were now only looking at the doctor more sharply.

"I know from your patron….and what I want to say is that I listened to some of the troopers descriptions, especially those who were using flamers….the enemies remains were twisted fusion of living flesh and steel, complex mechanisms in every part of their body beneath their exoskeleton."

McCloud simply continued without giving away any sign that he felt threatened…which was pretty normal for a hologram of someone living on another celestial body, far away from the trigger happy people at the table, whose commander said in a barely controlled anger tinted voice:

"As useful as this information is…how do you know who I am?"

Shaking his head and gesturing them to wait with the same impatient look a teacher would direct at a student who asked a needless question, he continued:

"But the most useful part hasn't come yet: all troopers describe their enemy as…dumb: easily grinded down if engaged by trained progena, only equal to us on platoon level or bigger….but as soon as the presence changed one of the drones and enhanced it those around it became….clever."

Tensing and seeing Miranda and Jacob both slip out of their seats as the majority of the people in the mess hall did the same…only to filter out of the room and head towards their work, leaving her teammates standing behind her, trying to guard her back as she hissed at the hologram:

"What are you leading up to…"

Now allowing himself a smile the doctor said in a calm voice:

"Easy…someone has to control the drones…at least one entity which organics their tactics, while the other one can handle the small units…but only one at a time, so either it's the same or another."

Stopping for a moment and simply looking at the doctor piercingly as she combined that with what she knew about the Reapers, she asked while simply hoping that it wasn't too late or that there was another one like Sovereign:

"And you have any idea what…it is?"

Reaching into his pocket and pulling out what looked like a pipe…made out of gold and steel and covered in religious symbol not unlike those they had seen outside or as jewelry on some of the people on the street….ramming some tobacco into it he looked up and replied:

"No, it didn't talk, simply fired on us whenever it appeared, which could be seen when one of the drones was lifted up into the air and changed."

While he reached into his pockets and pulled out a matchstick, lightening it up before letting it fall into the pipe's end, unconcerned by the….disturbed expression…or better: body language his conversational partner was showing as she gasped:

"That's very vague."

Shrugging he took a huff on the ivory mouthpiece and murmured after blowing out again:

"We don't know much more, but I'm sure Lord Lionel will send you a report."

Still suspicious…especially if someone seems to be as forthcoming as these people, Commander Sheppard did her best silent glare with the impersonal visor as she once again asked:

"Why?"

Putting his pipe down on the table, McCloud simply stared back and then slowly asked her the crucial question:

"Say Commander….do you hate them?"

He couldn't know what went through her mind….didn't saw how she saw the Normandy's destruction, felt the destructive beams only meters away from her….saw people she had known and cherished as part of her crown blown away or simply disintegrated by the beam weapon…But he saw her posture stiffening, her shoulders squaring and he saw how she calmed down her racing hearth as she remembered the burning feeling as her spacesuit was raptured and the air slowly left her lungs…her body falling towards the planet. He didn`t need more and if the missionary would later ask him he was sure to simply say the exact answer she now said to him:

"Yes."

"That's why."

,he said just as simply ignoring the worried looks those two were giving the commander they were….important but she was far more if what the Illusive Man had told the missionary was true. Leaning back into his chair he slowly and grimly said to her:

"I do not care for much else but I also hate them, hate them for what they have done to us and might do to all of humanity….I'm sure your….watchers will get a notice any moment."

And as if on his cue Miranda's omni-tool lit up and after the stroke of the fingertip, the womans eyes were tracing over rows or letters as she looked first at it then at the doctor bewilder….and shortly after resigned as she announced:

"That's a note from…TIM."

Taking another drag from his pipe and ignoring the way those three's eyes became expressionless and could be set in stone, he smiled kindly and closed his eyes:

"Quite correct, the missionary informed the Lords of the Houses that she had brokered a deal with your patron."

The Commander seemed to take exception to that and quickly pressed, instead of letting someone imply she was in some kind of dependence or subordinate role to the terrorist:

"He's only paying the bill."

Only humming to her hot reply, he merely nodded and explained:

"As he's ours…it was more of a trade for us."

Before either of them could say anything more Miranda chimed in again, pointing at the bottom of the list her eyes looking at him warily as she explained for Jacob and Shepard:

"The notes says we are going to take a…Progena Carmen with us.",

Which exited her lips hard and accusing as she didn`t like someone bringing people into the crew without her getting a sufficient file on them….as she had non right now.

"Ohhh yes, she's one of the field medics….she could learn something from you and Karin.",

Lord McCloud said unbothered, his tone light and a genuine smile once again working on his lips and only widening as the Commander looked at him surprised and the tension between them seemed to slowly ease again as Alexandra asked amused:

"You know Dr. Chakwas?"

Winking quite pleased with himself he nodded:

"Old Comrades commander.",

Was his simply answer, making all three members of the ground team plan to visit the good doctor as soon as they got back to find out more about this….new faction which had entered the scene.

"….and it seems Progena Carmen is already waiting for you.".

Isaac said amused and stood up, holding his pipe in one hand while forming the sign of the Aquila with the other, bowing silently as he turned around and was already disappearing, one half of his body outside the sensors box.

"Still…..hate?",

Jacob said as he watched the man disappear his worried eyes meeting Miranda's as they looked at the commander standing up, still silently mulling over the words. Reaching out Miranda put a hand on Shepard's shoulder and just want to say something as a strong and loud voice announced:

"Shall I show you the way out?",

Twirling around they were faced with one of the steel clad soldiers they had seen before. Standing just as tall as Miranda, the woman, at least her voice had been fairly feminine, was one of those strange armors which might have better belonged into a museum than in a hot battlefield like the quarantine zone. While the light hard suit was an entirely civilian design, the baggy uniform above it was hold in a dark grey and gave way to a jacket in a clearly military cut. But showing the more…homemade quality of the armor were the different parts forming it: greaves, bracers and a heavy breastplate with a pauldrons on each side of the shoulders were lacquered in black and adorned by small silver and gold ornaments here and there, while remaining utterly utilitarian and most likely also easy to produce with civilian resources.

Still together with the helmet….if it wouldn't have been for the mask with the specialized googles set into it, obviously also repurposed civilian equipment, the woman could have jumped straight out of a historical holo-tape.

As she came to attention and clicked her heels against another, her hand came up to her helmet and she saluted with her palm facing outwards towards the group, while her thumb pointed downwards, the tips of her fingers touching the cold armor of her helmet.

Her head moved minimally until she faced Jacob and simply stated with silent conviction:

"**Hatred is the Emperors greatest gift to Humanity."**

* * *

**To the Readers.**

* * *

douchiesnacks: Sorry you had to wait then, I'm writing rather irregularly, even if I usually write a whole chapter on one or two days.

Guest: I can't improve if you don't say me which part of it was confusing.

Poliamida: I was one! Glad it wasn't totally gibberish to everyone~

Lord Anime: Thank you and Thank you, I only uploaded the non corrected version accidently.

KhazintheDark: No...

Jouaint: As always: Thank you!

Red Roman Pyro: As I said above: Thank you all for making me notice I uploaded the wrong (uncorrected) document

OBSERVER01: I don't think you want to bet with me about it, or?

Commissar Critical: If there would be critical chapters then there might be fillers...but I try to keep all of my chapters important enough, even if no one gets killed or maimed in them.

Lovin it: Vengeful Shepard in a position and job which usually should not deploy vengeful people~ And I'm quite sure its not the flexibility of TIM which is important here~

PredatorPuck: Please, where?

Gustave-Drakenhime: I tried, after reading your comment I finished the whole first part of this chapter...before not doing anything for two weeks...

Biorr the Old: Even with my Beta the updates are slow...so sorry~

jakejakereal: In the next chapter there will be more passionate worshipers...but not someone important like Shepard will see in action...but there will be rumors~

Zeneon-the-mac-user: Sadly there is.


	16. To live (WIP)

**_Only Despair can Defeat us._**

**_This is a non-corrected chapter, so be ready for my catastrophically sentence structure and plain errors which I simply read over because I know what I wanted to write._**

**_As now both of my Beta Readers disappeared and I was simply sitting on the chapter for more than two weeks, I want to post this before I head of to write my exams in the coming weeks:_**

Chapter 16: To live...

„Lady Jeanette! Lady Jeanette!",

Letting out a deeply felt sigh, Jeanette Maier turned around to face to progena running towards her, reaching up to instinctively brush some of her hair out of her view and back behind her ear again as she straightened and regarded the your girl before her patiently, even as the peaked cap on her head threatened to slide over her eyes.

The girl, obviously one of the newer ones, panted lightly and tried to calm down again as she clicked her heels together and threw a quick, still slightly sloppy salute for her:

"The Missionary is awaiting you at the docks and…it's not urgent but she would hope for you to arrive soon with all due haste."

The way the girl still hold herself...a bit like an overeager puppy to be honest...it was quite amusing and scary at the same time that Jeanette couldn't remember when she had last seen a girl with such… she searched for words…innocence?

Mentally shrugging she gave the girl a curt nod and watched her back as the brunette hurried down the dark halls of the schola, muttering soft prayers as she walked past the statues of the saints and disappeared behind another intersection.

Shaking her head bemused the teacher turned towards another, seemingly identical hallways and headed down it, not minding that only so little light reached the interior of the hallway as she entered the section of martyrs and found herself staring at walls filled with skulls….each emblazed with a steel plaque reading their names, ranks and the time and place of their death: most of them bore nearly the same inscription or shared at least half it: Cyrene and the date of the invasion.

Or "The Day of Revelation" as some faithful had taken on themselves to call it.

She couldn't quite say anything to the contrary, her eyes swept over the ranks of empty eyeholes which seemed to follow her with every stop: imagination of course: only one in ten housed one of the security cameras.

Reaching out and gently running her fingertips over the unyielding steel on the skulls foreheads, Jeanette whispered a small prayer to Emperor, praying for the souls of the martyrs and asking for every one of the faithful's being able to fulfill their duty just like those devout souls had done.

She hadn't even noticed how she had closed her eyes, the dimness of the hallway having mesmerized her for a moment, the way the sun light played over the dust as it sunk down in front of the little splits called windows.

It was….breathtaking to simply watch the way the light was broken by the glasses, all of them depicting scenes of the Emperor or his sons leading humanity inward….it was as if the hallway was bathed in gold in response to mankind's glorious history and immortal leader.

Taking a deep breath and a last smell of the burning incense from the small altar in the side, she continued on her way, one last gaze falling on the skull she had first touched:

"William Mathew….that you may put a good word in at the Emperor's golden throne for me….none can die braver than you did as martyr.",

Lowering her head in a last sign of respect, she turned sharply and hurried down the floor, her boots clinking on the floor thanks to the small iron pieces in her heels, not wanting to let the Missionary wait too long.

Each step took her further towards the exit of the schola, the days in which she was mostly confined to the walls because of her work….gone since months.

After all that one day was surely one revelation:

A revelation about the truly unforgiving nature of the Universe.

* * *

I

* * *

At another place in this particular universe the nature of it itself was in doubt too:

Mostly for three humans and a gathering of vorcha and krogans which found themselves staring at the headless body of an unlucky batarian in blue sun armor.

It wasn`t the mere presence of the body, the scorch marks on the walls, the still smoking remains of the vorcha who had created them before bullets hit their gas tanks and shredded them in the process with the now perforated tanks peacefully trickling down over their hard brown leather, showed quite well that it was….a target rich environment.

One in which the blue son mercenaries had found themselves in a pincer between Blood Pack and Shepard's squad, which had quite disastrous consequences for them…at least until they were thinned down enough that their two enemies found themselves facing each other and shifted from their current state of coincidentally-shooting-at-the-same-target to shifting their barrels on another.

So, after all, it shouldn`t be strange enough to see a headless batarian,

There were no electric parts sticking out of his skulls remains and exposing a robotic infiltrator underneath the skin, nor was there a growl as an undead abomination lifted itself up from the ground.

Progena Carmen for her part wasn`t fazed by it and instead aligned the barrel of her lasgun with the next vorcha , which had the presence of mind….or maybe lack thereof, to ignore the demise of its fellow and instead tried to jump over the cover it had been behind.

One simple press of a finger later and that one also tumbled back with its head missing, heaving exploded as the bright orange lasbeam went through its head and vaporized every from the front to the back, the suddenly transition from water to steam making cells and flesh burst, sending skull fragments out like shrapnel.

As if a spell was lifted from the battlefield everyone lurched into motion again, either storming forward in assault waves like the vorcha, or keeping in cover with a steady stream of bullets holding the enemy at bay like the blue suns and the team of the Normandy.

Carmen for her part had to fall back behind the pillar she had taken cover at again as seemingly everyone without someone suppressing them, even some who were, shifted their fire towards her and pinned her down before she could squeeze of another shot.

"Was that a laser?!",

She heard someone yell and only a moment later she connected the voice with the man she had spoken too before, Taylor or something, who was currently flanking the enemy while his assault rifle blazed a way free for him.

Only rolling her eyes at the awe and disbelief which colored the expressions of those around her, which were accustomed to their primitive and inferior tech base.

But as the fire lessened when the xeno's were softened up by her new teammates, she looked out of her cover briefly and squeezed the trigger two times, hitting one of the helmeted blue suns and grinning feral under her helmet as a human cry came out from the melting helmet as it burned through the flesh and face of the wearer:

"Take that Xeno Lover!"

Laughing out she pulled back behind her pillar, not minding the incredulous stares she was getting from her teammates as she simply ejected the coolant for the lasguns and swept in the next with trained ease, one eye going to the HUD of her helmet and checking on her teams position and her own barrier strength before she rolled out of it and hit the floor behind another low lying crate, lying prone behind it as she reached for her bandoleer and grabbed one of her six frag grenades.

Pressing down the small safety lever on its back she primed it, before pulling the ring on its head and throwing it forward.

The simple device rested in her palm at one moment, the heavy weight of its metal jacket pressing against her gloves, before she pulled back and let it fly, giving it the ballistic grace of a flying stone.

Pulling her lasguns closer to her chest as she heard the rather hard thud of the grenade on the heavy floor of the station, waiting for the first shrieks to start, Carmen leaned out of her cover and fired from her prone position, gracing the leg of one mercenary which tried to run away from its suddenly not so sure cover.

Not that it did it any good: even a gracing shot was enough to make the flesh boil and vaporize, tearing out big chunks of flesh and blasting off the whole limb in an shower of red blood as its owner slumped down and trashed around with its bleeding stump before letting out a blood curling scream as the grenade went off and tore through its squirming back.

Seeing its mates dive for cover, Carmen rolled a little to the side, giving her a clear cut field of view to her right, trusting Agent Lawson to cover the left side which her handy cover blocked from her sight.

The station was more of a grown mess than a planned settlement…something which it maybe have been last under …scratch that…It never really was planned out as settlement.

But thanks to its rather makeshift nature there simply was cover everywhere, ranging from pipes strewn over a hallway to parts of starships simple welded through existing halls to fix holes or expand the space.

Searching for her targets, she let out a gasp of surprise as two blue orbs sailed over her head and the first one created a swirling vortex in the middle of the air: pulling those targets with depleted shields towards it and up, before the second one impacted this area of effect: creating a big explosion which send whoever wasn't torn into shreds or dissolved on molecular level, hurling through the air and impacting the close bulkheads with sick crunches even through their armor.

"Carmen give Jacob covering fire: Miranda help me to suppress them!",

She heard the commanding voice say icy calm through the speakers in her helmet, making her obey without question as she the friendly green blob on her mini-map run forward, her lasguns snapping up as she saw one vorcha with a flamer pop out of its cover to grill the dark skinned soldier running towards it:

But before she could even get of a shot, the vorcha was already crumbling backwards, the center of its mass penetrated by a heavy round, which formed a torn tunnel from the front to its back, the dripping fuel slowly filling the air with its sharp smell as it flowed out of the hole the bullet left.

Seeing only the tips of two more of those ugly xeno's peeking out from behind a crate, she flicked the pin at the side of her lasguns from semi to full automatic and let loose a small hail of twelve shots… small in comparison to the usually at least twice as large magazines of other assault rifles, but twelve shots of pure light leaving behind a rail of orange for a second, as well as a crack of ionized air, was enough to make them drop back into cover…even if that was now unnecessary: after all you can't evade a shot which travels with the speed of light: only hope that the rifleman didn't aim properly.

While her shoots had no other effect than being quite flashy and leaving a hot trail of blackened pockmarks all over their opponents cover, Jacob used the moment to slip behind a torn out bulkhead, allowing him to flank the vorcha's cover and flush them out, while one of them stayed behind in a puddle of blood after the former-soldiers rifle tore a canal through his unshielded body.

Now coming from the side, Jacob started to roll up the lines of blood pack before him, giving them either the chance to pop out of their cover, were most got a nice little hole through their helmets and weakened shields: courtesy of the commander, or they could try to stay and take out Jacob first which….did not work that well as they had to notice.

Quickly the whole thing devolved into something akin to turkey shooting as reluctance took over the surviving mercs, some of them charging forward with a scream, only to be shot down after not even three meters, while others tried to stay in cover and were picked off by Jacob.

The last gathered rush of a group of vorcha, led by a krogan was barely out of its infancy as it was cut down by well-placed fire from the local soldiers, a grenade and another singularity by Miranda, which quickly turned to charge into a helpless floating on the mercenaries side….at which point it was only a question on picking them off one by one.

Taking a look out of her cover and one at her display, Carmen slowly stood up, her lasguns still trained at the area before her, as she moved forward to meet up with Taylor, seeing the other two woman do the same thing.

Carmen was just about to ask for new orders as the commander stepped closer to her and their air was driven out of her lungs as inhumanly strong punch was thrown against her belly and even through the armor she felt the strength behind it.

Folding forward she gasped for breath, her hands trying to bring up her lasguns even as she saw the surprise on the faces of the two members of their team, which were not wearing any helmets.

She couldn't even move it an inch as the follow up with a knee hit her mask, silencing her sound of pain as she felt blood running down from her now numb nose, making her taste the saltiness on her lips as she pulled the trigger.

But the commander was not only too close, but had already shoved the gun to the side and grabbed the arm of the progena, forcing her down and the lasguns out of her grasp.

Letting go Carmen reached for her bayonet, pulling out the wicked knife and stabbing wildly at the black armored figure before her, even as she felt herself being overpowered and forced down to the ground.

In the next moment a sharp pain raced through her arm as her wrist gave a short snap and the knife slide out of her unfeeling hands, hitting the ground with a light thug as she was disarmed and unable to move in the hold of Shepard.

"Who are you? And for who are you working?",

The cold voice hissed venomously as an arm wrapped around her neck, pulling and making her gasp for breath as the smooth fabric around her neck was offering no protecting from chocking.

"Commander?",

Came the doubting voice from Jacob, but he didn't interfere as of yet, while Miranda simply watched it impassive, her eyes glued to the lasguns on the ground, swiftly moving over to it and taking it up, wincing at the heavy weight of its wooden frame.

"It looks like a museum piece.",

She stated rather calmly, making the commander nod:

"No matter what it looks like….it's a freaking laser and no known race is able to construct direct Energy weapons. So who are you?"

The question was accompanied by a tightening of the arms around her neck, keeping her pinned down as struggling simply didn't measure up against real military hand to hand training like an N7 had learned.

Already tears blinked into her view, so the progena simply gasped:

"Amelie Carmen, Progena and Trooper for the Glory of the God Emperor!"

With a sound of annoyance she was thrown down, for a second time her lungs were pumped empty of air as she hit the floor and was then kicked in the ribs hard by an armored boot before the commander lost her calm and shouted:

"Don't play with me! There's only one unknown race which could have technology like that! You are a servant of the Reapers! Are you working with the collectors! Was that how you got that skull!",

She demanded and emphasized each acclamation and accusations with another kick, making Amelie cry out and squirm as her ribs were mercilessly hammered by more and more anger fueled kicks.

"Commander.",

Jacob said and reached out, touching her shoulder, only for her to shrug him off as she gave the prone form on the ground another kick:

"Answer me!",

She cried out full of rage and only stopped as Miranda pulled her back and said sharply:

"Shep…..get a grip on yourself….that's not you."

She only got a dry chuckle in return as Shepard turned around and regarded her for a moment:

"Not me? Of course you know how much of me isn't me anymore…you did a great job with your Project Miri….but….it can't make me forget what those….",

Behind her helmets facemask she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm down, even as her hands formed fists and she shivered in barely constrained anger:

"…those bastards did to me. They will pay Miri…not only the Collectors…but the Reapers, they made it personal when they went after me and my crew…"

As the commander slowly calmed down, Jacob approaching the still figure on the floor, reaching down to lift her up….and had to back pedal frantically as a knife nearly stabbed into his eye. Flopping her around and disarming the Progena, he leaned down and lifted her up, her body burning with pain as he carried her over one shoulder, approaching the other two woman again.

"Commander….we should get her to the clinic, I think I have heard something crack…",

He said reluctantly and Shepard was already turning to face him again as she felt the hand on her shoulder and stopped, gulping down her accusations before giving a small nod and reaching out, taking the lasguns from Miranda's hands and regarding it for a moment with deep mistrust.

"Ok Jacob….but if there's only the slightest indication that she is pulling something on us….",

She didn't even have to finish the sentence as Jacob gave her an understanding nod.

Looking over to Miranda she nodded once and slung the strange laser rifle over her shoulder, continuing down the dark corridors, her steps continuing deeper into the station as she thought:

Lasers, something all council races thought was impossible, not even the Salarians seemed to get the guardian system either down scaled to infantry sized weapons or at least enable it to fire more rapidly before overheating. But the Reapers are thousands of years old, they are bound to have a ….

* * *

II

* * *

"Surprise?",

Jeanette said nearly in disbelief as she looked at Sergeant Alexander, walking through the rebuild streets of Cyrene. Tall and imposing buildings lined the street to both sides, the grey of prefab buildings being the prominent color as the walked past those quadratic slabs, only stopping occasionally to greet fellow veterans of the xeno invasion….not that here were lots of people who weren't part of that group.

"She said that and…..I think she grinned….",

Alexander said this with a small pause, as if not really believing his own words as he nodded once again…more to secure his own mind than hers.

Marchioness Maier shook her head: the missionary genuinely grinning? Normally she did seem to bear what Jeanette had labelled in her mind as "grin no. 4" which seemed to radiate warmth and compassion when she walked through the streets.

Walking past a lamp post, the small altar at its side spreading the smell of incense and burning wax, she looked back to Alexander, right now her one and only "men at arms", something she seemingly needed in her status as "Lady" and peer of the realm .

Which came together with her "privilege" to attend all meetings of the parliament between the great houses, with the missionary obviously only being an advisor and spiritual authority.

She smiled, unable to keep a straight face as she thought about it: "advisor", as if the whole assembly wasn't glued to her lips and ready to jump at anything she would bring in.

"So she grinned….I think she didn't smile genuinely often in the two years I knew her.",

Jeanette mused as they went past he local shop for trinkets and small lucky charms: the shop behind the glass window full of small statues, bone clips from martyrs or even the occasional fertility charm depicting the Emperor in well…..a truly imperial size.

Feeling her cheeks flush as she remembered the conversation about this at the council and the outrage some of the more strict faithful had, she did her best to try forgetting the missionaries reasoning about giving eighteen sons for the progress of the Imperium was a deed worth striving after.

And when looking around there were….lots of babies either on the way or in their wagons: it seemed like that trinket was "working". Shaking her head and stroking over the side of her uniform to keep the wrinkles out of it, she continued down the street, only moving a bit to the side as a company of the PDF marched past them.

"Eyes to the left!",

Their officer, a member from the House of Eston as his hereditary banner showed, cried out, bringing up his saber and saluting her, while the thirty odd men of his group brought their rifles into a salute and hit their armored breastplates with their clenched fist.

The sound thundered over the street and a few pedestrians looked towards their direction, making her accept the salute graciously instead of simply ignoring it: her hand touching her peaked hat and giving them a small nod as the formation marched past her.

As the last of them was out of hearing range, she looked questioningly over to Sergeant Alexander:

"I don't know him, is that a new ensign?"

Touching the side of his closed helmet for a moment, surely trying to get access to the databanks all progena share and update, Alexander explained:

"He is new, as well as more than seventy percent of the troopers behind him….most of them are from Omega, new converts Sister Marie send to fuel our industrial base."

Nodding more to herself than to him, Jeanette continued into the main street, stepping back to evade a heavy truck which carried the finished goods towards a store room.

"Pfff….being driven over does not count as martyrdom, or?",

She asked sarcastically and saw Alexander wince, feeling bad herself as she should know how serious he was taking everything the missionary had thought them….making them perfect little children soldier. Shaking her head at those thoughts she stepped towards to control point, the guards saluting her as she walked through the airlocks leading into the new industry dome….a former habitation ward which simply wasn't needed anymore.

The fumes of oil and sweat greeted her as she entered the flaming hearth of the colony, her skin prickling as the heat greeted her and she now had to swirl and step past working man and women, carrying crates and documents from one manufactorum to another, the large factory complex simply being the whole dome.

If one stepped into it one was either in one of the factories, or in a small room between them, were things were either stored or shifted from one manufactorum to another.

Assembly belts rattled along their endless lines and robotic arms were shifting whole pallets of barrels from one track to another, none of them controlled by a computer but each of them controlled by a human operator who was sitting in a control room behind their station.

"That surely is a waste, so many people could be work more productive if those work steps were automatized…I mean…look over there!",

She said and nudged the sergeant, pointing at an open area at the edge of another factory, pointing at the long lines of people standing next to the assembly line and simply screwing or loosening screws on the centerpiece of the future lasguns.

"They are making those things by hand! Imagine how much more we could turn out if we would simply put a few VI into place and let them to this monotonous work."

The progena wasn`t very impressed by the idea, simply shaking his head and replying gravely:

"A busy mind is a safe mind and to work for the Emperor is to make him proud."

Rolling her eyes Jeanette stopped and stepped off from the street, instead standing next to a wall as the pedestrians continued past them. Standing close to her Alexander watched her impassively, his pale features visible to her as his mask was still attached to his belt.

Gesturing towards one of the mechanical industry arms Jeanette tried to bring up her point once again:

"Even so: you have partly industrialized the work already….so why not make it even more effective by setting a computer behind it?"

Alexander stiffened visibly at the idea and shook his head vehemently and said:

"Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain."

Blinking dumbly for a moment, Jeanette tried to process the statement for a moment before, a smirk flickered over her lips and she poked his shoulders:

"For someone who doesn't seem to be comfortable with aliens in one room, you sure sound like you had lots of contact with suit rats, didn't you?"

Bristling under the insult of being under xeno influence, Alexander was shortly before exploding into a small rand and pledge of loyalty, one against xeno's and the other towards his liege lady….no matter how aggravating she tried to be….always having such silly notions like: lightening the mood.

He was only saved because in this moment a heavy gloved hand lowered itself onto Jeanettes shoulder, nearly throwing her off balance, as an amused voice came from behind:

"Our heroic Lieutenant is visiting my humble workshop, the Emperor must truly honor me with such an honor!"

Alexander sighed and looked at the woman behind his Lady, shaking his head in disapproval:

"You shall not take the Emperor's name in vain, Lady Darsteiner."

Letting out a laugh Gabrielle Darsteiner only shook her head, her short brown hair covered by a leather cap with a PDF helmet on top of it, the dents on both sides showing her luck in the invasion.

Turning around Jeanette had to concede: the woman was tall, standing just a little over two meters, with toned arms and legs coming from a life of hard work in the docks of Cyrene.

She was a stark contrast towards the young teacher, whose pale, some might even say frail, form stood next to her strong build, the heavy hand on her shoulder strong and callused, so totally unlike the nearly blemish free fingers of the young Marchioness.

"Why so serious?", she asked amused and pulled Jeanette towards another building, smiling and nodding her head here and there when workers hurried past them and shouted:

"Good morning Boss Lady!"

Laughing once again she looked down at the younger woman at her side, whose mother could have been: so far were their ages apart.

"So? You are still stuck with your shadow?",

She quipped and pointed a thumb at the progena, who had taken to simply shoulder his rifle and shut up wisely. Jeanette for her part cracked a smile, Gabrielle sure was funny at times and also quite different from some of the "nobles" who acted all pious and didn't take their faith further than just paying lip service to keep the population appeased.

Lady Darsteiner in contrast was a firm believer, even if she did seem to be rather loose with her tongue and quick with her wits and while some elements in the assembly were against her thanks to that personality, the missionary was firmly on her side.

Which also explained why she had ended up in control of nearly all industry which was being built on Cyrene: the house of Darsteiner got sole stewardship of all factories and thereby had maybe the first or second most powerful position in the ranking other three houses.

For the moment Jeanette tried to forget that and simply treat Gabriele as a good friend, so she laughed a little and nodded:

"Of course I'm, you know that everyone is out to get me: I can't possibly leave my house without a guard."

She said with sarcasm tripping from her words as she was lead inside another one of the prefab halls, working bustling left and right of them, the sound of hammers meeting metal filling the air as they went past the hellishly glowing furnaces filling the center of the building.

"Steel…armor…..civilian grade but…",

A grin played over Lady Darsteiner's face and the scars she bore on her cheeks were lit up in glowing red as she stared into the flames and its shine was mirrored on her skin:

"Isn't it wonderful! Far better than the usual waste we get here in the Terminus.",

She finished with a big smile and turned around, facing Jeanette and knocking against the breastplate hidden under her uniform coat:

"Imagine if every last of the PDF could be equipped with those and then we would still have enough left to make wests for a regiment or two!"

Rubbing her hands gleefully she stepped towards office and waved Jeanette closer, finally stopping at a door and opening it with a grin:

"I'm home love!",

She grinned and pushed the door open, revealing a spacious and wide office, with two big wooden desks on each side of the room. While the desks were nearly identical, the paperwork on top of them couldn't be any more different: One on side were stacks of paper which formed towers of instable messages: growing into mountain ranges spanning from the computer on the side, up to the recaf mug on the other edge. Jeanette could watch slow glaciers form and move just barely, their inevitable move leading over the edge but….that was still in the far feature for this formation.

On the other side was a prime and proper system: with lots of differently colored folders and drawers forming an efficient arrangement for all incoming notes and memos.

Seated behind the clean desk was a man, maybe a few years younger than Gabrielle, who quickly stood up as they entered and smile warmly at the Lady, bowing her head with an amused glint in his eyes:

"Couldn't you resist the temptation to show off my dear?",

Standing up he went over to Gabrielle and leaned up to give her a kiss, barely reaching her shoulders as it was. Jeanette looked to the side a bit embarrassed as the older woman kissed the man passionately and both of them kept their embrace for a moment, until they parted, both wearing small smiles and gazing deeply into each others eyes.

After a moment Alexander made a small cough and startled both of them, quickly going back to his impassive guard stance as Jeanette threw him a dirty glance for this.

Gabrielle stepped backwards with a small embarrassed smile on her lips and a rosy blush on her cheeks as she reached up and pulled off her helmet, putting it down and stroking through her wet hair as she gave the other Lady a smile and nodded happily towards the man:

"May I introduce: The future Lord Maximilian Darsteiner, my fiancée and director of the Research and Development Department."

Maximilian walked up to Jeanette and did a elegant bow, keeping his legs straight as he bend down and gently grasped her hand before giving it a kiss. Straightening again he gave her a little wink and laughed as she blushed and his fiancée put her hand on his shoulder. Turning his head he laughed disarmingly:

"Love, don't you know that it's the latest trend to appear as….noble as we can? I know from my sources that the download volume of historical drama's and romance novels has at least tripled in the last month."

Hitting his shoulder playfully Gabrielle laughed out and nodded:

"Truly dear? But what can your poor fiancée think we you make other woman blush while she is next to you?"

"That she is truly lucky to have me?",

He chirped back unabashed and raised both hands in playful surrender as she raised her fist again:

"Peace love! You know I can make it up to you!"

Lady Darsteiner crossed her arms and regarded him seriously…even if her eyes were sparkling impishly:

"Of course you can! If you stay cooped up in the office for the whole day, why don't you take care of my paperwork too?"

Swooning from side to side as if hit by a hammer, Lord Darsteiner put his hands over his heart and shout in played despair:

"Ohh sun of my live! Fire of my soul! How can you do something like that to me!",

He started in a dramatic parody of the way some nobles really had taken to talk in, before he continued more serious at least:

"I shall do the papers from yesterday for you."

"Nope; all of the last month."

"You haven't taken care of that yet? Good, the last week then!"

"Really? We aren't even married and you play with my hearth like this? Three weeks at least!"

Jeanette watched the play between those two amused, doing her best to stifle the giggle which threatened to come of her lips and might just slip out sooner than another cough by Alexander at this point.

With the words: "The last three days!" "Deal!",

The banter came to an end and both seemed to be ready to slip into one another's arms again, as they suddenly seemed to remember her presence in the room:

"Ohhh….Sorry Jean! I totally forget you!",

Gabrielle cried out let go of her man, grinning happily as she pointed at another door:

"Come, I wanted to show you something the R&amp;D Department has cooked up! Under the management of my dear of course!",

She announced with another smile and took his hand, squeezing it softly before they bad farewell and headed for the hallway leading to the neighboring complex.

As they stepped into an elevator, alone expect maybe of Alexander and the altar made out of three golden skulls which formed the back of the cabin, Jeanette grinned and nudged Gabrielle's side:

"So? Spill: How did you two meet? And when did you get engaged? And most important: Why didn't you tell me!"

The former foreman, laughed and brushed through her unruly hair, giving Jeanette a small smile as she leaned forward and whispered:

"Sister Marina organized all that."

Jeanette blinked and could only gasp: "What?"

Laughing again, Gabrielle smiled fondly:

"Ohh she came to each of us and told us about the expectations a noble had to fulfill and one of them was creating lots of small mini nobles to one day take over your work.",

Laughing a bit to herself she added:

"I couldn't really believe it: no relationship I had in all my life did really work out so far and….I'm not that young anymore….I could be your mother with my age and who would want someone as old as me?"

Jeanette only rolled her eyes and replied:

"Only if you were busy really really early: you are more the age of one of my aunts. But don't change the topic what happened then?"

Grinning Gabrielle nodded:

"Fair enough: I told Sister Marina as much and she simply regarded me for a moment before announcing that she had already found a match and I would only need to meet him.",

With a shrug she stepped forward as the elevator came to a halt and she could only smile warmly at Jeanette's doubting expression.

"I know, it sounds less romantic and colder than it was, but I only agreed to meet him and when we meet at one of the restaurants we had a pleasant evening and….I guess there simply was a certain something."

Laughing she stepped out of the elevator as the door opened and stopped cold in her track as she saw who was already waiting for them. Coming over her surprise she hastily bowed while Jeanette and Alexander thumbed their fists against the breastplates and lowered their heads.

Stepping forward with her robes flowing around her feet, Flavia Aquila smiled with a certain pleasant anticipation, her red bionic glowing stronger than usual as she took the little group in front of her in from head to toe, before announcing in a pleasant tone:

"I was sure I would find you here."

* * *

III

* * *

"What did you find doc?"

Her eyes closed Carmen bid her time, feeling the slimy hands of this toad xeno touch her armor as she was laid down on top of a cot and she thanked the drugs which were currently coursing through her body for making her unable to feel anything or too react out of her role.

One she had played since the moment the rest of the team had turned on her: playing unconscious and using their weak morality to get into a situation with a better chance to flee.

She was aware that the xeno was standing between her and the three Cerberus agents who had taken to side on a trio of stairs on the other side of the room…next to the exit.

"Hightened amount of leucocytes. Drug and other chemical traces in her blood. Cracked rib, broken nose under helmet. Fully conscious and waiting…"

Carmen didn't listen further as her play was obviously up, leaping from the cot, she tried to tackle the xeno, in her hand was a short knife which she had hidden in her boot and was now bringing to bear on its throat.

But her plan didn't work out: for the second time she hit the ground….hard. The former STG Agent didn't even turn around as he backhanded her and she landed on the floor with another ugly crack, her breath going ragged as she sucked in air as her bruised chest hurt terribly.

"Tactical sense, minor hand to hand training. Mercenary? No, equipment self-made, alien in design, Special Forces? Unlikely, civilian quality: militia?"

Amelie didn't hear half of it, she was too preoccupied with her pain to hear the quickly speech of the xeno, her hand was instead touching her breast, where no more than two swift hits of the xeno had taken away her breath.

"We do not know Dr. Solus. But we believe she might be a servant of the collector, usually those have cybernetic implants spread through their body, did you find anything?"

Carmen felt someone pulling her up and she was leaned against a wall, her arms struggling to push them off her, but her head was feeling suddenly as if it was filled by lead and she sunk back weakly, even as she barely felt someone pulling off her mask and helmet:

Her black hair tickling her ears as she heard a gasp and then felt someone touch her nose; making her wince as it was pushed as well as tugged around a bit, before something cold was sprayed on it and the pain receded.

"Curious, suspicion? Cause? Equipment different but not alien: alliance resources and techniques. Something else? No: something missing. Weapon?"

"Indeed professor, she had this, it's a…"

"Rifle? Wood? Bold action? No: no bullets. Three standard energy sources: Alliance. No E-zero. No Metal block. Different. Electricity? Shock weapon? Direct Energy Weapon?"

"Yes….how did you."

"Easy. Just logical. But no: no cybernetics."

Carmen barely felt the shadow lift from her face as the xeno stood up and stepped aside, giving the others a good of her bloody face. Before she slipped she could hear curses as the xeno said:

"Hard Training regime. Chemical agents. Totally biological: had to expect: sound teenage girl."

* * *

IV

* * *

"Now….this is not what I had expected to do.",

Gabrielle said and stared at the wide test side underneath the factory: grey concrete forming all three walls and leaving only a few places in gold and black, where small altars allowed one to pray to the machine spirits of the new war machines and apologizes for forming their wretched existence and damning them to a life of torture.

Currently the testing ground was empty, except for one big crate which stood three to four times as tall as her, its top connected to a lift on the ceiling.

"What did you expect Lady Darsteiner?",

The Missionary asked amused and gestured for some workers, which then pulled a lever and after four helpers, who had disconnected the top of the crate with its the side walls beneath it, had run out of the way, the top of the crate started to slowly lift.

Even if her eyes were glued to the crate in curiosity, she couldn't help but sound a bit disappointed as she said:

"I had hoped to show Lady Maier the new laslock factories and the Gatling prototype…..she surely would have appreciated them additionally to the bolters."

Smiling serenely the missionary patted the former foreman's shoulder with a smile and nodded towards Jeanette:

"Don't worry….I'm sure she will be delighted with them….but for now I want to show you the fruits of our little trade…"

Gabrielle flushed a little, even as Jeanette came closer to the crate, becoming curious herself for what the missionary was doing this little show. Softly Gabrielle murmured:

"That were a few hundred of our best prototypes Missionary….it's hard to get sufficient energy sources….impossible from civilian contracts only…..that's why we started the laslock production anyway…."

The missionary nodded and squeezed Gabrielle's shoulder lightly:

"Do not worry sister, it will be worth it…..",

She gave them a little smile and said: "It has been worth it….for the Emperor."

And as she spoke the last word the top came of the crate and with a loud clang all four sides fell forward, forming small ramps towards the load of the crate:

Standing on stumpy legs was the bulk of a walking war machine: based on the heavy YMIR mech it stood before the three woman with two arms: one bearing a heavy mass accelerator gun and the other one a brutal claw, which was closed right now but looked like it could tear through an tank like a knife through wet paper.

The missionary walked up to it with a big grin and touched the side of its cockpit with a laugh: a pneumatic hiss resounding in the silence of the proving grounds as the cockpit opened and revealed a seat surrounded by a myriad of controls and computers. Gesturing for Jeanette, Flavia called out:

"For you…"

And as Jeanette did the first step towards her…gift? She wasn't sure it was…intimidating….she had never seen anything similar before….it was…..intimidating.

Taking a deep breath she tugged her hat securer and strode past the Missionary, reaching up and pulling herself into the cockpit, muttering a small thanks as Alexander helped her up.

As she sat down into the ….surprisingly comfortable… chair and looked around the cockpit a bit lost, not daring to touch anything yet.

Looking down she saw the smile on the missionaries lips and was sure there was something else coming up. As the door to her side screeched and the large metal plates which parted the proving ground from the vehicle pool slide up she got to see what:

One next to another, shoulder at shoulder: row after row.

At least three dozen of these Walker were standing there for her to see, groups of engineers already crawling all over them and working on weapons and cockpits, pulling weapons off and slabbing others on the war machines.

But her eyes staid on one group: painters. They had just finished up their work on one of the trading goods: its left shoulder was adorned by a great pauldron: its surface now depicting a leering skull with the Aquila stamped onto its forehead and four lasguns at each side forming "wings" for it, the whole assembly resting on painted laurels with a rather plain banner beneath it: "By the Will of the Emperor."

Jeanette had to suppress a shudder as her eyes searched for the symbol and found five more of the machines marked like this…and the painters seemed to be working on the next already….with trepidation she turned to the missionary and saw her amusement, before the Marchioness looked down at herself and saw the leering skull with the same heraldry….her heraldry pinned to her uniforms color.

The missionary simply continued smiling as she stepped forward and bowed modestly as she finished her words:

"…Knight Captain. May the Imperator protect you."

* * *

To my Readers: or rather those who are still left~

* * *

OBSERVER01: We will see~

Lost Guy: The chapter came in response to your comment: More sub characters for everyone! Now I just have to cram the plot lines I plan for them in somewhere

SalemTheSpeakerOfTruth: Truth...and on space battles I already correcting it, here I simply had forgotten it till you pointed it out, will be cleaned up when the chapter gets corrected.

jakejakereal: The point is: no one really noticed the cult spouting xenophobia and praising the Emperor as Lord and such isn't that different from some christian groups who are still around.

Jouaint: Thanks!

ShadowCub: Too bad~ Already happened again~

RED Roman Pyro: Sorry, I try my best but I'm not very good at the whole writing thing, better at getting ideas to write down to be honest. Ohhhh...an mechanicus ship alone in the mass effect universe...The horror of the reapers: getting vivisected while red robed cyborg sing praise to the Omnissah in their bellies!

PredatorPuck: Thanks and Thanks!

Imperiel-Priest Engelbart: I take it that you approve of the sisters small sermon?

Haruka Kasumi: Ohhhh, you have no idea~

Lovin it: Sorry, without beta my chapters are WIP and I'm terrible at finding my own mistakes because I simply read over them and correct them without noticing the error. Your comment lead to the small scene with her pulling out the lasgun ;)

Poliamida: Will do so! Was an mistake, which I will correct.

KhazintheDark: No...and no again I think. But YES to the last part :) Even if Lasers might not be that useful.

Anie: Onwards!


	17. Air! Ground! And the below! (WIP)

**Air! Ground! And the below!**

Carmen tapped her gloved hands impatiently against the metal of her bed, her helmet missing which showed her annoyed scowl as she glared up at two appealed and two impassive faces above her…that one of the later belonged to a xeno wasn`t improving her mood.

"A sound teenage….how old are you?",

The commanding officer -her commanding officer- she corrected herself even as she recalled the beating she had gotten without any good reason, was looking down at her with: shock maybe? She frowned at that, it was hard to see with the darkened visor still on the woman's head:

"Sixteen…ma`am.",

The progena replied after a moment, painfully aware that multiple of the smaller LOKI-Mechs had stepped into the room and their hands rested on the stocks of their weapons. She lay back into the bed and tried her best to look at the woman's face, or visor, trying to forget she was the cause of the pain which still wrecked her abdomen.

"So…any reason you beat me up or did you get kicks from it?", she says before she could help herself, Carmen`s eyes widening for a moment as she closed them in fear of punishment for talking like this to a superior but…after a moment she only felt a soft touch on her shoulder: as soft as armoured gloves touching armoured shoulder can be.

"About that…seems like….uhm…sorry?",

The aspiring medic had to blink at this…she was not sure if that woman had said more than a few dozen sentences and now she was not only apologizing but also stammering, as if she was nervous?

"Sorry kid, I`m sure the commander didn`t mean it like this."

Taylor, she reminded himself that this was his name, said and give her what might at best be described as a tentative smile, while his hands slowly left the secure grip on his weapon…as she could see he was the only one who did relax now, even the commander seemed to be still as alert even if she seemed…sheepish? She was not sure if she had last seen that emotion before the invasion of Cyrene or after they had arrived on Omega. It did not matter, she schooled her face into a polite mask and corrected them:

"I`m not a mere kid, I`m a soldier of the God-Emperor himself."

Her statement was meet by various looks of discomfort from the three humans around her, only the xeno watched without pulling a face, even as she moved her attention towards him: giving him an dirty look before looking back up to the commander. The dark armoured woman seemed to shake her head sadly as she squeezed down on her shoulder:

"Carmen…you are sixteen, you should be in school instead of running around with an armour and gun. These things do not make a soldier out of you…"

Scoffing at those words Carmen shook her head: those things were enough to turn the Imperial guard into the largest and most powerful military machine there had ever been and if the body was unwilling? Then the mind had to be filled by the spirit of the Imperial truth.

But before she could tell her new comrades, even if only temporary, this: the dark haired woman….Miranda? Stepped forward and poked a fingertip accusingly against her polished breastplate:

"Your armour is nice and such: but where did you got that gun from?"

She seemed to emphasize the last words and Carmen could only raise an eyebrow in surprise as she replied easily: "From the Quartermaster."

The woman didn`t seem to take that answer to kindly and leaned even closer, staring at her with those dark eyes as if searching for any falsehood: "Where did you get a honest to god Direct Energy weapon from?", she said with a scowl and even the xeno seemed to perk up from his impassive observation at this question and maybe mostly because of this Carmen clamped up and simply replied: "The Missionary."

The woman gave her a final look of scorn and then straightened up again, looking at her teammates and shakes her head: "We should ask her questions like this later…but I don`t think she`s a collector spy…is that also your opinion Dr. Solus?", she asked the Salarian, who also nodded at these words:

"Easy to see intent and emotions by body langue. No sense of Indoctrination from her. Only anomaly is her weapon. Would advise to investigate the Missionary. Right now Plague vaccination and ventilation systems are more important: Blood pack will defend heavily."

"The Dr. is right, any moment we stay here gives them more time to dig in and means more death from the plague.", The commander said with a sharp nod, her cool demeanour having returned after Miranda`s pointed questions had taken the girls attention away again and made her clamp up.

"I will head out with my team now…"

She looked to the side and shook her head sharply as Carmen was already half way out of her bed and the Loki mechs pointed their stunners at her:

"I will head out with my team kid, you will stay here and wait till we return and then we can bring you home."

Carmen for her part was fuming inside of herself as she had to listen to this, moving back into her bed as she glared at the retreating backs of her comrades….but at the same time…a smile graced her lips: hadn`t Sister Maria asked everyone to look out for such a chance? If they were now diverting the mercenaries focus somewhere else….far away from their usual patrols and bases. She chuckled softly as she activated her omni-tool. Waiting for a moment but not seeing the mechs do any threatening move: Carmen started to type away: after all: it might be the first test of this sectors human spirit…it would be glorious…..even if she had to wait in this little room.

* * *

**B: Zekaria Square and Street**

* * *

"With Fire and Sword! With Gun and Maul! We shall purge those who have preyed on us for so long from our homesteads and our lord given lands!",

The priest drowned on as his long black robes flowed around his feet and he stepped along the lines of the militia, some of them kneeling and moving their lips in silent prayer, while others held up their rag tag collection of guns: the laslocks were becoming more and more prominent and a symbol of identity, but the mass effect weapons were simply more widespread between former gangs and the occasional worker who had put some investment into his or her personal protection. They were no formal militia, not even Sister Maria had dabbled into their organization, instead she had sent out the converted priests and the newly minted acolytes, who had spoken with passion and argument, whipping up the people into a mood of frenzy on the more extreme wings of their society and a more controlled anger and hatred on the rest of the willing ones.

As for the rest? Meek and timid ones, cowards and traitors! Not that one had voiced those thoughts out aloud…or had even needed to. The group dynamic was a wondrous thing, one turning neighbour again neighbour and friend against friend, as soon as the whole society set themselves under one common banner…and said neighbours and friends did not follow.

There had been strong words, there had been hits exchanged, bloodied noses and blue eyes. But most important: there had been those who had faith and stood strong to defend themselves from the violence and oppression of the xeno and those who hesitated: whose mind and bravery faltered before the odds. Now there was the sound of shoes stomping over the dirty floor of the station, an angry mob spilling out of the few secured living blocks one had rescued and who were now streaming towards the mercenary held compounds to show them the might of human hatred and faith.

It was glorious.

Not as glorious as a true battle, but Sister Maria only had to look out of the window to see the widespread mood of joyous anticipation: of people taking their destiny in their own hands for the first time in their life…to lay it down before the Emperor himself. It wasn`t a scale she would have even called a skirmish back home, but it at least was a glorious sight that let human spirits rise up proudly.

Reaching for her side she put her hand on the trusty handle of her power sword and her gloved hands stroked reverently over the ivory handle, made from the bone of a martyred cleric more than three thousand years ago and with little pictograms showing his life in all its dedication to the Emperor. Reaching to her side she took the helmet one of the Progena had offered her, reaching up and donning it over her head, the seals which connected it to her body armour hissing as she was sealed inside and her view was reduced to the image she saw through her T shaped visor. Not that this was any problem: compared to a regular imperial Auspex the technology was terribly limited and worst of all: moody. Moving it from its usual resting place on a persons omni-tool into the dedicated helmet of a stormtrooper had made the machine spirits….erratic. And while it pained her to do any kind of…heresy, even if it was only the only such declared by the nearly pagan Martian Brotherhood, she saw the need for it: after all a soldier of the Emperor can`t shoot at the enemy while he`s busing staring at his wrist.

Looking at her arms and back she scowled lightly at the thought of the origins of this her own engines of destruction: xeno tech or at least xeno ideas the missionaries new source had called them. She gripped the handle of her sword tightly and a feral grin spread over her face, a transformation which would have shocked nearly everyone around her, who had only known the gentle and young Sister Maria. It might be time to remind everyone that before this she had been Seraphim Maria and that she was in her second century of service for the God-Emperor.

"Forward!",

she cried enthusiastically and ran towards the hole in the hallway in front of her, the heavy footsteps of her own chosen progena sounding behind her as they got faster and it became clear towards what they were running:

A huge chasm was before them, they wall they had torn down being the only thing which had formerly parted the inhabited quarters from the old mining tunnels, one of them being this giant…canyon for a lack of a better word, at which other side blinking lights and the grey of building alloys once again became visible.

With a small prayer and a wide grin, her usually controlled and gentle demeanour broken like the mask it was, Sister Maria jumped into the Abyss….but not without pressing the controls worked into her gloves and three engines lit up on her back, and an additional thruster on each of her arms!

Followed by a dozen figures clothed in the dark grey armour of the progena, the sister fell into the dark chasm only to feel like her whole body was yanked up again as soon as her jumppack fired up and she was propelled upwards, the air pressing against her suit as she fought to control her trajectory, a grim expression on her youthful seeming face as she came down on the other end with a loud crash, dust and dirt flying away in a small cloud from where she landed. She did not have to turn around, she simply turned off the vox of the third progena behind her, as the aspiring stormtrooper plummeted into her death, having lit one thruster too much and smashing herself against the mining tunnels wall.

"Good.",

She said simply and raised her hand, gesturing forward, the ebony white colour of her armour contrasting with the more subdued tone of her auxiliaries. She reached to her holster and pulled out her inferno pistol, the gilded weapon glinting menacingly in the half dark before them. With a swift movement of her thumb the activation rune of her power sword lit up and the straight blade started to hum as blue energies dancer over it like lighting and formed a softly gluing corona: every bit of matter, every flock of dust touching its edge tearing itself apart.

Her eyes went to the wall in front of her and a progena was just about to place a shaped charged against it, as she hold up her hand once again and made him stop, her left hand rising instead as the inferno pistol started to hiss and build up energy, her auspex reading correct and…

…everything before her simply vanished: molten down and cooked into gases: the wall, the lining behind it, the other wall cover…and the blue sun sniper team behind it: the sniper simply turning into a cloud of red particles, while the spotter stayed behind as a steaming stain of offal.

Stepping forward through her new opening Sister Maria was assaulted by the most wonderful music, the most pious orchestra and the most lovely picture one of the Emperors daughters could see: a fresh battlefield, martyrs in making and xenos in their dying throes, while the traitors to humanity were set to the torch.

She could see the rapid mob under the lead of their priests and loudest spoke persons rushing into the hallway from the left, the broad street littered with barricades and corpses, both intermingling and sometimes the later formed the first. The angrier red of laslocks pierced the air with loud cracking sounds, leaving black pock marks on the hastily erected fortifications, while others blasted the mercenaries away from their position, blacking armour or melting it into the flesh of their wearer, while other shots pierced and blow whole limbs off in a geyser of vaporized flesh and blood, which turned bones and armour plating into shrapnel's or used mostly intact armour to funnel the explosion inwards, tearing the mercenaries up from the inside out as their insides were shredded by their own bones and flesh: torturous last moments making them live through the agony.

A fitting end, Sister Maria thought pleased and a part of her would have loved nothing better than to watch these brothers and sisters redeem themselves and their prior lives in blood, death and service to the Emperor. But even as she watched and drunk in the scene, she couldn`t keep herself from trembling and biting down on her teeth as she watched a whole group of faithful blown to bits by a traitorous human in blue armour, who was fielding a rocket launcher and had used it to blow those unfortunate martyrs cover into oblivion together with them.

It was a battlefield in which humans fought against some of the vilest traitors: those who threw their lot in with xenos and placed their cause over their duty and loyalty to their own race. Flamers fought against flamers and while their own one had a far higher reach and the far more effective and painful fuel: their smaller version shredded those of the mob which came far too close for their own good and got torched away as they ran or fell screaming.

All this the sister could overlook from her place on a balcony and she would not have much time: someone was bound to notice their sniper team was gone….as well as the second team which had been hit by a stray missile it seemed. Not that the sister had anything against it, for now she simply took a step forward towards the edge of the half blown up balcony: the alloy still bristling under her steps as they cooled down from its rapid exposure to an inferno pistol, and kicked herself off.

For a moment she feel, the floor rapidly coming close as her jump carried her off the seventh floor of the tall building she barged into: but now she knew her controls and even with unfamiliar technology which she was only able to shape by memory if any: she had been a Seraphim and a Sister of Battle did not forget her craft.

"Ave Imperator!", flew from her lips as her jumppack soared to life once more, catapulting her forward, her visor getting overlaid with targeting data, trajectories and the machine spirit rouse from its inactivity to start working madly: high lighting targets of opportunity, trying to discern friend from enemy: trying to get any semblance of order into the representation of the street below her.

She rose her left arm and was yanked to the right, barely evading a huge towering mech, but not without placing her inferno pistol in its direction and pulling the trigger for a second time: they metal giant starting to fall forward as its back was vaporized in the wave of heat and radiation which cooked its supporting infantry in their suits as Sister Maria was already flying over them, evading the beginning of counter fire, as the first mercenaries got confronted with the new white clad threat.

Not that it helped much: to the contrary, it was just what the Sister had intended: the fire on the militia and/or mob lessened, which made them break forward again with a terrifying roar. People in masses could be cowardly and break after an demonstration of force or they could melt into a single terrifying animal, who endured the torture and had no other aim but to grab and break those that had hurt it.

To the mercenaries horror it was the later and people, who had just now been manning heavy mounted guns and only swivelled them around to get the new airborne threat down, were pulled out of her position and stabbed my bayonets from all directions. The faithful were climbing over barricades and walls without thought for their own lives as the mob cried itself into a frenzy and shot at everything in front of them that was not human or wearing blue armour….and even then more than enough shots found a friendly target instead.

But did that help?

The mercenaries in the front would cried in anger and anguish as they tried to stop the flood of bodies scaling their positions and pulling them down were they got hit, kicked, shot and stabbed before they were finally death…and even then some simply continued to mutilate the corpses before them, a look of utter fear, panic and hatred mixed in their eyes. They would continue to simply stab and stab and stab until someone pulled them away and they realized their enemy was already dead.

So many bright spirits lead to the slaughter bank, so much innocence broken…so many new cogs for the big machine that is the Imperium…an heavy clock, an ancient one with a big pendulum, whose innards are the blood and life of its citizens, the number of its tanks and soldiers: an unaccountable number of bigger and smaller parts: all of them only to serve him and through him humanity.

There are many thoughts flicking through the Sisters head as she kills her jumppacks thrust and lets herself fall to the ground, rolling off gracefully to compensate for her velocity, before bringing her sword up and easily tearing it through the closest blue sun trooper, who had just begun to turn as she landed. The last thing he saw was the white armoured figure with the flowing tabard on her body: a leering skull and a fleur de lies, both held in the claws of a golden bird of prey with two heads, depicted on it. Then his view shifted and he fell to the side, his eyes closing after taking in a last image that burned itself into his dying mind: his legs still standing and cut away from the rest of his body just above his crotch, the cut…the separation steaming and smelling like cooked meat as the figure pulled her blue glowing and buzzing sword back and brought it around to stab his comrade with nearly no difficulty.

Sister Maria for her part was simply pleased that the armour of this sector was so…primitive. Not that any other would have offered much protection against a power weapon: but this was simply disappointed. Pulling out her sword from the body of the traitorous human she had observe red before: a pistol gliding out of her dying grasps after she had thrown the rocket launcher away in favour for it and Sister Maria said to her acidly:

"And so die all who raise their hand against their follow humans, they shall wither and find only absolution before the Golden Throne. Ave Imperator."

She said and instead of simply pulling the sabre out, she turned it upright and pulled it up in a flowing arch, killing the woman as soon as her lungs and then her neck and head were disintegrated on the blade of the power woman: some hardly identifiable mincemeat falling to the ground as Maria sheathed her sword again. The mercenaries had reacted quickly, trying to shift their fire on the coverless progena and their jumppacks: it was only to bad that they were now simply fighting against swift and deadly melee infantry in the middle of their fixed positions, where a quick burst of the jump pack got the stormtroopers behind the next available cover and the mercs found themselves ducking from a barrage of orange lasbeams as the heavy pistols in the progena`s hands cracked angrily: again and again.

Sister Maria knew that only a dozen people couldn`t hope to bring down the whole defence themselves: but they were able to weaken it decisively. Spotting another fixed gun position, she jumped up into the air again and ignored the weak fire hitting her kinetic barriers as she flew over the pit with the weapon inside: the mercenaries could just look up as they heard the approaching roar of her jumppack and in the next moment their lives turned into fire and flame, as the satchel the Seraphim threw down at them exploded, taking them and their weapon with them.

She was a bit disappointed that there was no ammunition to cook off: because a follow-up explosion would have served their cause, but she could see other positions falling silent as the progena reached them, either gunning or cutting down the crew….or as the explosion on the second store of a house a few dozen meters away showed: simply throwing in the explosives and running away.

Landing behind a rather sturdy looking dumpster, build out of one of those infamous transport boxes, Sister Maria glanced at her Auspex and vox, seeing that the number of Progena with her had dwindled from twelve to eight, while the others would have to wait to be checked after the battle.

But their sacrifice had not been in vain, looking over the street behind her, Sister Maria could see the people storming the barricades from which the fire had either slackened or stop all together, as the airborne progena had cracked down on those position from behind.

Now the dredges of the Omegas society were storming the positions of one of the mightiest and best organized mercenary companies in the galaxy: with tenancy, anger and faith flaring up in them brightly and pushing them forward.

Bayonets, clubs, shotguns and knives became the more and more widespread weapons as the mass of people poured into the holes the progena had torn into the blue sons defence. Now the fighting became more and more chaotic, moving into the neighbouring buildings from which the mercenaries had poured fire into the mostly unshielded masses and now found their deaths at the hands of their former victims. Sister Maria stood up and watched as one of the most faithful groups appeared right at the entrance of main office, the mercenaries used as their HQ and from which they had started their hunts for their fellow humans to appease the aliens in their ranks.

A grim smile played over her lips again as the watched those men and woman in the red robes of their group run forward: their bags were filled with explosives and a burning torch was hold in one hand, while the other threw one flask after another…bottles filled with crude promethium that shattered in a huge fireball whenever the glass broke on a hard surface.

Under her gaze the group, consisting out of a few dozen man and woman, hurled themselves at the walls themselves, before either igniting the explosives they had poured into their bags or throwing as many of the so called: "Molotov Cocktails" into closest windows and soon the whole building seemed to be aflame with dark smoke drifting out of the few windows in which the mercenaries still fought, even as their air filters got more and more clogged up.

It was a nice view, the mercenaries were either dragged out of the building or stumbled out themselves as their oxygen supply went down. As soon as they were outside they were to enjoy the tender mercy the people had for them after they had shot dozens of their comrades, neighbours and friends…

She should make ae picture of the missionary.

…while the mission towards the Blood pacts compound was still due to vox back their success.

* * *

**C: Under the Hurian Corner- Sealed passageways towards the Blood Pact compound.**

* * *

Someone had pissed into his pants. The stench was waving through the tunnel and Amie Davis crinkled her nose as she reached back and pulled the scarf closer around her mouth and face, trying her best to ignore the nervous murmuring behind and before her. The walls seemed to get closer and the air was becoming more and more stall as the steps of her group echoed through the metal corridors of Omega. The stations bowels were a maze of tunnels and rooms, with some sealed since centuries while other had been the den of drug dealers only weeks ago before the plague.

Since the plague had started the tunnels had grown more and more deserted: as the aliens died of more and more real houses became available and the arrival of the sister led to the organization and formation of human living quarters and militias in at least three fortified positions.

All this led to the maintains tunnels and air vents of the old Eezo mines becoming nearly totally deserted and bare of any living beings: only dust bunnies moving over the dirty floor whenever a door opened and new air rushed into the darkness.

If one might have seen all the tunnels, their random and twisted patterns simplified into a map and then spread out for a viewer to see: one would see dozens of lights. Lights which glimmered in the shadowy caverns of rock and the metal hallways of the station: lights which filled the stale air with the biting stench of cheap tobacco.

"Uggghh….I think I`m going to be sick….", a meek voice exclaimed from behind her and Amie turned her head lightly to regard her groups medic, a young girl barely into adulthood, who clutched the heavy bags slung around her with trembling hands and stared forward with fearful eyes.

"Sweet Jesus…can`t you keep your mouth shut for a minute girl?",

A deep voice growled from before her and Amie shot a venomous glare at the broad shouldered man before her: his work suit missing the sleeves which would otherwise conceal the bulging muscles he was sporting: sweat glistening on them and running over the dark tattoos worked into his skin.

"Sweet Sanguinius you mean.",

Amie said sharply, her hand gripping the butt of her lasgun tighter: rough gloves brushing over the heavy alloy which covered it and was showing the rough image of the imperial Aquila an image which offered her comfort even as her lips tightened around the stump of her own cigarette: the glimmering red point the only indication of her position in the darkness of the tunnel.

"No: Sweet Jesus.", he stressed and gave her a barking laugh

I do not even know who that Sanguin bastard is.", he said before turning to the right, stepping into a new opening which ones again laid to another tunnel….one which was so close that both of his shoulders nearly touched the walls as he walked forward and cursed:

"Blasted tunnels, why can`t we take the roads!"

Keeping down the dictate which had welled up in her at the blasphemous words of this son of a whore Big B, Amie said loudly:

"We are going through these to surprise them you idiot! Can`t that get in your bald pagan head?!"

The former bouncers replay was a smug grin, with wide leering eyes at her lithe form as he said:

"My Dad was Christian and he even got me baptized in this shithole, so I`m quite sure you are the pagan here!",

Pleased with his own wide he laughed loudly, taking pleasure in riling her up as Amie`s face quickly become red and she spat out:

"Heretic! If we would be back in the compound….", she hissed and her right hand slide down to her belt, holding onto the rough handle of her bayonet as she glared at him.

"Then what dolly? Would you go and run crying to the sister? Look at me: Oww Owww I`m such a cry baby…just like your friend behind you!", he fooled around and rubbed his eyes with his giant hands, the heavy bolter round he was carrying forgotten for a moment and set down with their two canisters in which their belts lay.

Looking up to him she snapped unimpressed:

"You can ridicule me but not Sister Maria, it was her vision and faith that brought us together in the compounds and warded us of from the worst of the plague: at first alone, than in families, than in dozens: we number hundreds and thousands and that only thanks to our faith which unites us against those who want to tear us asunder!"

Rolling his eyes, Big B picked up the canisters again after the person in front of him had swatted his side: making the rumbling slab of muscles turn and pick of pace again as he had stopped the whole group behind him. That of course didn`t stop him for needling her:

"As if she did anything special: the compounds are not better than any other gang which had set up shops around here: you think the people came because you sing and pray around so nicely? Of course not: They came because that crazy bitch offered food, protection and medicine! And right now we are not marching for your big daddy Emperor: we are off to kick those mercs ass and take their money and stuff!",

A small cheer joined in to this sentiment from somewhere behind them, Big B grunting as he picked up pace and left Amie to silently stew as she tried to keep up with his longer steps, her long-las resting heavily in her hands, while the strap of her bag with heatsinks was pulling down on her shoulder with every step. Was it true? Was she marching not with fellow warriors of the Emperor but with common rabble: murderers and thieves?

The Question weighted on her just as heavy as the grenades on her bandolier: her breath growing deeper as she inhaled more of the smoke before exhaling it silently, trying to keep her mind of this, even while she looked around to judge the others in her little group. Something which didn`t really help as Big B ad Jill behind her were the only ones she could see in the gloomy darkness, everyone else simply appeared as a small red dot hovering before or behind her.

"Jill?",

She whispered softly while listening to the sound of shoes and boots shuffling over the dark and rusty surface of the floor, taking a small breath before asking:

"So? Why are you here? I mean…you could have stayed behind…",

Amie didn`t even have to look over her shoulder to see what Jill was doing: the soft insecurity in her voice as back and most likely she would now be already biting her lips and trembling softly while trying her best to appear as unthreatening as a puppy….and that she did without conscious thought. Amie had to fight down a laugh at the thought: Jill really was simply Jill. She had looked so out of place on Omega! She was petite, not even reaching 5`4 and seemed to lack nearly all muscle tone one would expect from someone, who travels to the citadel of the Terminus. With her long blonde hair and expressive blue eyes she seemed to be more suited for the front cover of a fashion magazine than the kitchen of the small diner she worked at. She was running or at least hiding from something, that much was known by everyone: after all a young woman appearing in our quarters with a designer robe on herself? Mike from the barter had bought it for maybe quarter of the price it was worth in the real world….the world were one didn`t have to stuff recycled algae into themselves and by afraid to be mugged at every corner when one comes home or has drunken too much.

Even a quarter had been enough to set Jill up with a nice little apartment of her own and while some resented her for her fortune in the beginning, the more she became part of the everyday life the more people saw her less as a prissy, pampered princess and more as ones favourite little sister. She was nice, patient and so utterly clueless in regards to some aspects of live outside of the secure framework that was the Alliance, that one couldn`t leave her out in ignorance.

She was a bit like a cute little rabbit one finds outside and simply wants to take home for a cuddle… or making of a stew, but the ones trying that didn`t get really far after the rest of the neighbourhood had taken a liking to her. Chuckling a bit to herself, Amie looked back and gave Jill a small nod and a smile, seeing her friends face lit up too. She might be cute as a button, with her chance of survival on omega about as height as the one of a snowball in hell and totally naïve in a lot of important aspects of lives: but she was their innocent little rabbit: sometimes more and sometimes less of a mascot.

"I could but….they said they were short on medics…and I had a small course for it so….here I am?"

Their unofficial mascots says with a small shrug and Amie gives her a small smile and wave in return; as they shuffle forward:

"Happy to have you here then Jill, just be careful when we got those ugly mercs and kick them out of our homes!"

She wasn`t even finished with cheering at the thought as a sharp order cracked down the group and announced that they were close enough and everyone had to shut their mouth. The storm trooper overseeing the group from the middle of the column was whispering quick and precise orders into the com-beads of all fighters, the first one stepping forward and bringing a blowtorch up at the door in front of him, the bright flame quickly biting through the old and already rusted obstacle.

His com-bead was already starting up with a small crack to announce the all clear and invite the rest of the people to follow him…as a claw tore through his working overall, the blow torch falling to the ground and extinguishing the light around it, with the last view being a vorcha clawing at their comrade, whose blood curling screams were echoing through the tunnel as a mouth full of razor sharp teeth sunk into his neck.

The second man barely got up his shotgun in time, the loud blast tearing into the darkness and the bright flash of the metal shards lighting up the darkness as the feral xeno was blasted backwards, with its unshielded body offering nearly no resistance to the Eezo weapon. But in response howls suddenly filled the once serene silence and loud footsteps could be heard from all around them… Big B growled out their shared sentiment before the first xenos reached them….and not even Amie was up to disagree:

"Shit."

The next moment exploded into the roar of shotguns, the hissing of lasbolts and the furious buzzing of chainsword as the tunnels which had only a moment before been as silent as a tomb were filled with the sounds of fighting…and dying. The tunnels were too small to let more than a person move freely in its whole wide, so the most weapons one could bring to bear were two at each side: one laslock aimed by a person kneeling and the other shooting another one over his shoulder. But even in this close quarters the furiously hissing sound of flamers could be heard and their amber glows illuminated the darkness around their bearers as the men and woman surged forward and backwards against the sudden onset of vorcha, the semi intelligent aliens using weapons here and there, but mostly succumbing to a more primitive mind set: using their numbers, the cramped tunnels and the omni-present darkness to tear the faithful militia apart with claws and teeth.

Amie got her lasgun up and nearly tripped over the boxes of heavy bolter rounds Big B had thrown down as he brought up his heavy Carnifex pistol and started to shoot as the trooper before him was torn apart by a shotgun blast from a vorcha that had gotten in from a formerly dark and empty tunnel:

"One person for every tunnel which end into our main route: we will pull them back as we strike deeper!",

The stormtrooper overseeing them ordered and Amie`s hearth beat faster as she first saw Big B moving into the tunnel to the right from which the last attacking vorcha had come, his pistol raised and stabilized by his forearm as he went into overwatch.

Gripping her laslock tighter she moved forward, a quick tap to her forearm, setting her omni tool on its flashlight mode as she found herself at the front of their column: peering into the gloomy darkness while she could hear Jill breathing quickly and stifling what could be sobs.

One could not fault her…Amie was also trying to do her best in ignoring just on what…she was stepping right now….far softer and…warmer than the floor before…slippery and wet…the faint smell of copper tickling her nose.

Her meal was rising from her belly but she could control herself as she took another step forward and of that particular spot in the tunnel. Suddenly a set of eyes glinted before her and she could just see a mouth full of fangs before…something was jumping onto her.

Clenching her gloved hands tightly on the guns wooden handle, she found it trembling violently as she brought the muzzle up even as another of these piercing howls split the air and the vorcha descended down onto her.

Her frozen fingers moved stiffly and pulled down the trigger, it's purely mechanical function hitting a percussion tap that was built into the cylinder which, for a lack of a better word, worked like a cartridge. The hammer hit it and unleashed a small amount of energy into the cylinder, whose insides was filled with a rather energy heavy fuel, that was then "ignited" and use to fill a capacitor on top of it, with energy: the bulk of the capacitor was, what was making the las locks even longer than the lasguns created on Cyrene.

The capacitor was filled in the blink of an eye and had to spit out the energy just as quickly, its circuits fusing and melting down as it did so: pouring most of the energy the reaction had given it into the laslock and by this funnelling it through the crystals and lenses build into the rest of the laslocks barrel. The end product was the a darker red beam of light, which was of course only the trail the shot left after it flew: just like the crack of ionized air it left behind: the vorcha was death, with its chest blown apart by the shot Amie got off, before she even heard or saw the beam itself.

Bayonet! The thought became electrical her mind and her hands moved swiftly with the training she had in the few weeks before paying off as she got the blade into its position by the second try, reaching up and pulling back the bolt of her laslocks chamber: the burned out capacitor cartridge falling out and a new one: as long as her hand, getting shoved inside just as quickly. It hit the ground as she continued on, her steps a bit more secure, even as her eyes were moving from the left to the right and back again nervously, the all present darkness before her lifting as a junction came into view: another tunnel intersecting their own route and a nearly death light flickering up and down from time to time.

As she moved towards it she could hear Big B crying something about it being time as he was most likely let into the middle of the column again and guessing by his cursing he was once again carrying the heavy explosive ammunition for the heavy bolters.

Meanwhile she was only a few steps away from the junction and froze...for a single moment before crying out in alarm and raising her rifle as three sets of red malevolent eyes appeared in front of her, one charging out of each tunnel and scrabbling with another about who would go first as they each tried to get in front of the other two…which only led to them pressing one another against a wall or backwards or against the floor.

That view might have been funny: if there had been only those three.

But instead a dozen more spilled out of the tunnels and even as Amie fired the first shot into the mass, an arm exploding in a gory shower and her second one chambered and going wild as the beam only hit the wall and left a hotly glowing angry pock mark. Even with their fighting and showing the vorcha were pushing like rabid varren, the few weapons they had nearly forgotten as the mass of bodies stopped them from shooting at her…but not from shooting at one another.

Not that it helped her much as the first one meet her, pushing her back as she brought her bayonet to bear, the stink of the tunnels clinging to the xeno as if it had been pushed into a barrel of waste. It did not stop, retreating wasn`t an option in this tunnels after all, so it bound forward again and…impaled itself on the long knife bayonet Amie was bearing, its rancid breath hitting her right into the face and making her hands quiver and shiver on her rifle as she tried to move the thing of her blade: kicking it and swinging it from side to side, even as its body slackened and its eyes dimmed.

"Down!", the familiar voice of Jill yelled behind her and Amie finally remembered that one advice from close combat training: turn and pull: let oxygen at the wound, before it continues to keep sucking your blade in.

Twisting the bayonet in the xeno`s guts and biting down on her teeth as she heard it gurgle and hiss in its final dying throes, Amie got the rifle out of the xeno`s wound and ducked down, just in time to see a grenade sail over her head and the accompanying explosion was thankfully without real shrapnel's….even if the cry of pain a few steps behind her showed that the pieces of equipment the vorcha had used still hurt when blown away and piercing a humans shoulder or arm.

Amie for her part felt like crying too…but instead she heaved and vomited her breakfast right onto the corpse of the first vorcha she had killed, raising her head for a moment to take in the mincemeat the others had become a few meters away: only to empty the rest of her stomach.

She only barely felt the hands pushing her onwards as she stumbled over her own feet like in daze, ignoring the sticky organic parts which clung to her soles as she turned sharply to the right and brought up her rifle in the best ready position she could think of, staring into the darkness only accompanied by her flashlight as she heard the steps continue behind her as more and more people marched through the gruesome carpet the ever so gently Jill had created with a single throw…

"God…what….what are we doing here?"

* * *

**For my readers, to whome I´m deeply sorry that it takes me so long and that I`m to unmotivated to write much in one go~**

* * *

As I`m still unhappy with the state of my work, maybe you would not mind answering this question: "Where do you think lie the strength and weaknesses in this piece of fiction?"

And now to the usual answers:

PredatorPuck: Still working on it...and more like traumatized.

Luka le fey: Sometimes more and sometimes less.

Jouaint: Thank you as always.

Atilas: Depends on whom gets the laser weapons: laslocks are simply easier to produce...even if more wasteful as they need far far more ammunition.

LordGhostStriker: Well...as if she didn`t have enough people after her.

asqwerty3345: In a way...

Guest: Yes.

Lovin it: The missionary does care when she dies...and at that point Carmen will be there and ready.

RED Roman Pyro: Well noticed.

OBSERVER01: More like practical Shep and...you know: dying and coming back to life usually gives one some immunity to religions I would presume...

Poliamida: While its perfectly justified to flame Tau anime Mecha`s , know better when it comes to Imperial knights~

Knight: Size does not matter with the basic function of a lasgun~ its quite scalable~

Imperial-Priest Engelbart: Not for now...but to have her close by will be for the safety and successs of other children~

Sister: Thank you for the constructive comment! Most points which you named will appear in the next chapter...or the one afterwards, at it will be time that Councillor Tevos and her collegues get a look at what they financed~

Grammar Nazi: I know I know! It`s labelled WIP, or?


	18. Action and Reaction (WIP)

**Chapter 18**

** Every action has an equal and opposite reaction**

* * *

**_Only Despair can Defeat us._**

******_This is a non-corrected chapter, so be ready for my catastrophically sentence structure and plain errors which I simply read over because I know what I wanted to write._******

* * *

„Councillor", Anderson said in greeting as he stepped into the small and tastefully decorated lounge, that served as meeting spot for the Councillors outside of the more public chamber, nodding lightly towards the Salarian, who was already seated in one of the four padded chairs around their meeting table. His long spindly fingers were moving quickly over the controls of his Omni-tool, flicking through reports and notes at a breath-taking speed, only looking up as the door leading into the room from the hallway opened with a light swish and Valern gave a quick:

„Councillor.", as Sparatus entered, the turians steps long and purposeful as he gave both of them a nod in greeting and sat down in another of the free chairs: his posture straight and stiff, his claws tapping against the armrests of his chair as he gave Anderson a small greeting, his mandibles flaring:

„Councillor", Anderson acknowledged the greeting with a light wave as always, sitting down himself and opening his omni-tool, a move soon mirrored by the turian Councillor and the soft hum of the devices holographic interface, together with the small sounds of fingertips and talons moving over them quickly as report after report was filled in: ready to be presented on the larger projector in the middle of the table should the need arise. Suddenly the swishing sound of a door opening and moving back into its hiding place could be heard and the last of the most important Council in the known galaxy exited her office, a polite smile on her lips as she glided down the stairs, which lead from it to the meeting room, her dress perfectly set and from the latest designer on Thessia.

„Councillors", she said softly as the blue face of the asari sat down at the table and gave them her best gentle smile….before dropping the mask and laughing a bit with more seriousness in her tone, her whole body language shifting as if reinforced with the steel the turian and human were bringing from their military career, while retaining the elegance of her people: "It seems Sparatus has called us to discuss some things."

"Tevos: calling it merely 'some things' does not even get close to the whole situation we are facing, all three of us."

The turian used the moment the moment to include his two fellow councillors and pointed at the datasheets opened for review right now:

"Have schematics, video recordings and personal interviews in regards to the use of Direct Energy Weapons by non-other than those pet missionary of yours and on Omega of all things: we can be sure that the whole galaxy will know of them by this time of the next week."

Nodding to these words, Valern reached out and pushed the interface further: a large three dimensional schematic of the weapon in question appearing above the conference table. It's terribly cobbled state might have evoked pity or ridicule in a less informed audience, but everyone around this table was terribly aware how disastrous this new development could be and how it was already too late to wish the genie back into the bottle.

"Furthermore the STG was able to secure a dozen of those weapons with their standard resources.",

The Salarian Councillor said with a gesture towards the main projector, which was now showing the interior of a small STG spy ship, with its crew carefully packing lasguns into specially sealed and padded boxes. In contrast to the great care that could be seen, the former owners had left a large amount of scratches and even a half melted butt with traces that looked suspiciously like an attack made by an omni-tools knife mod.

"And by secure you mean…?"`,

Anderson said a bit suspiciously, after all he had some encounters with the STG in his time with the N-program and later on had to hear more of it from Commander Shepard. Seeing his concerns Valern, shook his head lightly: human gesturing was after all one of his pet hobbies and answered smoothly:

"Our agents were able to…bring them in when their owners went out to celebrate their victory and became too intoxicated to care about the whereabouts of their weapons. Control over this weapons isn't tight enough to stop anyone else from getting them…"

"So we can be expecting them in the hands of pirates in…a week? A month? Half a year? What kind of window are we having before each and every serving Turian in the Hierarchy will find the enemy fielding weapons that negate their own barriers?"

Sparatus said gruffly, looking a bit spitefully at the weapon and then back at the other Councillors, not relishing the thought of pirates and mercenaries having equipment like this. But every moment of hesitation was allowing this technology to spread and become known…his mandibles clicked in distaste and Tevos stepped towards the table, pointing at the scans of the lasguns:

"Is it truly that bad, this scans make me second guess if this weapon would be able to fire…not to start speaking about all the strain it would have to survive in a combat zone."

Looking at the other councillors, the matriarch sighed:

"If this is truly as bad as the preliminary reports make out…we are looking forward to a new arms race, all of it based on this…ram-shackle rifle!",

Her small outburst send her back into the couch and with another sigh she looked over to her colleagues:

"I had dinner with the volus ambassador this evening and he was quite pessimistic when it came to the galaxies current mood on the stock markets: after the scare the Geth gave us two years ago most of the weapon and defensive equipment industry was first at large with their value growing and growing…only to have this growth collapse into itself as soon as it became clear we were not going to bring the war to the Perseus Veil. Even if we start to put our minds to modernizing our forces, the industry might not be totally up to it even after two years…and an arms race in this new technology: between us and our…competitors would waste much resources that would be better used at another place."

"So you are saying we should try to get…the patents for this weapon Tevos? Trying to use it for use but with state funded projects instead of giving it to the highest bidders or our usual contracts?",

Anderson said with a raised eyebrow, after all most arms manufacturers were allowed to sell even military grade weapons a few years or months after they were introduced to the army. Just as Tevos and Sparatus seemed to nod at the idea, Valern quipped up again with a simply:

"Impossible."

Waiting until the other three Councillors had turned to him, the Salarian once more pointed at the hologram and then manipulated his omni-tool till the blocky chamber of the rifle was laid out before them with parts labelled as Source, Capacitator and a seemingly random set of lenses built back and forth. His three fingers reach out and start to move the single parts from side to side and behind most of the mechanical and electrical parts the blueprints of known and even widely spread weapons appeared: high lighting the areas which once housed up to 80% of the lasguns inner housing. With this done he looked up once more and said:

"It's impossible to stop this weapons to spread through the known galaxy as soon as someone with even an inkling of what he's doing looks at it: it's as Tevos said a ramshackle weapon…but one which can be cobbled together with two standard rifles and a chemical set for growing crystals."

"A chemistry set?", Sparatus said dryly and only got a serious nod in return.

"Yes, in the aftermath of the reports from Omega the STG once more went over the battle damages we have seen on Cyrene and we have found matches from the mostly thermal damage the weapons leave on the surface of structures and on armour."

The picture switched from the schematics to the landscape of the ravaged moon Cyrene or rather the domed settlement on it. The Councillors were able to look objectively at the pile of exoskeleton clad corpses the Alliance Marines had gathered in one corner of a small plaza, the invaders bodies only partly whole after their sudden exposure to vacuum. The picture shifted to the left, showing long rows of insectoids bodies, lying on the floor like some sort of gory jigsaw puzzle. The picture shifted closer and slowly started to circle through a number of close up frames showing the wounds of the illusive Collectors: limbs nearly blasted off from the body, large chunk of flesh missing or torn outwards by something, but with the wounds left behind cauterized and nearly no blood to be seen anywhere. As soon as they had the chance to take this in Valern changed it once more: this time showing collectors next to pictures from Omega, bright pointers starting to compared wounds, deepness and the cauterization effect that was the most noticeable – 89 % match.

Furthermore, two shipping manifests were displayed next and one could have heard a pin drop in the Councillors private chambers as they looked from the first list, labelling the order of a **few hundred** of M-8 Avenger Rifles for an colony world as first rescinded and then lost from storage…on Cyrene, to the second: ordering three hundred chemical sets for the growth of Crystals in school classes. To drive the point home, the lists were then flanked by the scan of the oldest lasguns they had found on omega, showing not only the parts of at least Avengers inside of them, but also Crystals, whose growth seemed to have been stimulated by the chemicals belonging into the school set.

"Spirits…we did not notice that a bunch of primitives had Direct Energy Weapons all that time along…don't tell me their…", Sparatus began only for Valern to nod:

"We went through the scans we have gotten from their weapons when they were on the citadel, the results are…frightening.",

Soon the pictures of death and destruction were once more replaced by scans displayed similar to blueprints, but this time it was a more compact pistol, the one the missionary bore at her hip when visiting to be precise. Unlike with the lasguns this time large portions of the weapon were greyed out or downright red, with not even the STG having any idea about what the portions were doing or what kind of materials were used for their creation. This time it was Andersons turn to voice his disbelief:

"Does this mean you have let unknown people with laser weapons into the Councils presence?",

The silence following after this statement said everything as each of the Councillors turned up to face the scan once more trying quickly to raise their expectations when it came to these three elements they had most often underestimated. Even the intelligence services of the Council species had thought the strangely designed pistols to be nothing more than some kind of primitive railgun, which had to use tremendous amounts of energy to fire a shot. The truth was chilling, especially in light of the other claims the three woman had forwarded.

Surprisingly it was Sparatus who seemed to push the talks further as he stood up and raised his clawed hands, his mandibles shut in tight seriousness:

"Anderson, this serves no further purpose but…", his gaze flicked to Valern: "I would love to hear what the STG has found out in regards to their…swords.", seeing the questioning looks he was getting from Tevos and Anderson he shook his head: "We underestimated them. Badly. We shouldn't do so again: they are here for not even two years and already seem to create a growing crisis if we don't step in quickly."

The salarian looked into the gathered faced before giving a small nod, the salarian representative most often had the honour of briefing the other Councillors on information unearthed by the STG, as such this was a practiced thing and no slight was perceived by either party as he started:

"I'm sure everyone does remember Spectre Zudar Paelane? Our families trace back to the same great-grandmother.", Valern said and seemed to drift into fond remembrance for a moment with closed eyes, but of course this was to give the other Councillors a moment to remember or to quickly look into their documents. As he opened his eyes once more, they were once again sharp and he continued in quicker pace:

"I'm sure everyone remembers: his Spectre career was quite short but he accomplished to destroy a whole batarian pirate cruiser, while not only defending his charges, but he did also rescue a retired Turian general and his daughter, as well as human slaves…that he did give his live to destroy the Cruiser was a terrible loose for the Spectres."

The other Councillors inclined their heads lightly but then looked up sharply once more, after all Valern wouldn't have chosen this when asked about the sword except if there had been…

The next set of pictures was showing the interior of a hangar, a group of Salarians, sifting through wreckage of some kind and only after a quick glance at the accompanying text, it was clear, that the debris was all that was left of the pirate cruiser after its engine room exploded. The Images now zoomed in on two particular, slightly round shaped pieces and everyone in the room was, thanks to various military experiences, able to identify those as a console from a batarian ship and with the signs on them: the weapon control usually in the centre bridge in case of an emergency. But the most perplexing thing was the way it had broken: nearly straight as if someone had cut through its middle, like a hit knife through butter and simply let both pieces drop before they had been torn away by the explosion. The images went even closer, now displaying the innards of the console: or what had survived the explosion of the ship and its travel through vacuum before. Even the cables and chips, which filled the interior were cleanly cut, too cleanly: an even closer view showed how each of the cables was cut along a straight line: totally smooth and without frayed ends.

Throwing each other uneasy glances, Anderson finally spoke up and asked Valern:

"Do you want to tell us that this was done by…a sword? Not even edges honed to monocular level are this precise and they do break more often than one can count and are terribly expensive and unreliable because of this."

Nodding lightly at those words, Sparatus pointed at the images: "But at the same time we have no other weapon that would be able to do damages as clean cut as this. Does this mean that's another technology in which the Imperials are leading before us?"

Looking worriedly towards him Tevos voiced her doubts:

"Sparatus? You make it sound as if they are our enemies or rivals: there are only three of them in the whole Council space and wherever they come from: their Imperium seems to be busy with internal problems from what we have heard so far…not that we even have any idea where they are."

Nodding lightly Anderson had to join Sparatus in his way of thought:

"True Tevos, but can we truly risk this? What if their Imperium is only two or three Relays away? Shouldn't we at least attempt to find them? Even if only to accomplish this in the missionary's life time to present her as a proof of our honourable intentions?"

"If they are even using Mass Relays.",

Valern suddenly threw into the room and everyone turned and glared at the proverbial elephant, at which point it fell to Tevos to call it out:

"What do you mean with: If they even use Mass Relays? The Mass Effect and the use of Element Zero is the only way to only realistic way to reach sufficient velocity to enter FTL and without the Mass Relays even this won't be enough to connect a truly wide spread galactic culture."

"But at the same time we have found no trace of Element Zero in the missionaries equipment, even Omni-tools use tiny amounts of it, as does nearly 80% of all technology used in Citadel Space.".

The Salarian interjected and earned a small shake of the head by Anderson, who replied:

"Of course I don't want to discount the idea, but we have seen that their weapons are totally unlike our own, maybe it simply has been a step not only motivated by increasing their firepower, but also saving on E-Zero costs in their production?"

Sparatus seemed to scoff at the idea, answering quite readily:

"But at the same time they do not have Kinetic Barriers? I find that hard to believe, or do you think their laser weapons are widespread enough to make them obsolete?"

Maybe surprising the unsuspecting visitor, it was Tevos who replied to those questions, as it might have been some centuries ago, but even she had once worn the tight uniform of a huntress and later of a commando in the ranks of her patroness:

"Unlikely, Kinetic Barriers also allow our soldiers to survive shrapnel's and worse on the battlefield: even if barriers would only be used for that purpose, it would still be vital in each equipment."

Unsurprisingly it was Sparatus who scoffed at the whole debate and leaned back into the couch, before finally voicing the question:

"So where does this leave us?"

Looking from one Councillor to the other, it was Tevos who finally voiced her thoughts and speculated quite reluctant:

"Maybe they were trapped in their own home system longer than us and evolved their technology along a totally different line of thought and without E-Zero to work as their solution to seemingly every problem. After some time they find a Prothean Outpost in their system and set out to build up their Imperium and not too long after this we find ourselves in possession of those three woman."

Once more it was the changing of the pictures above their table that garnered the Attention Valern used, with the scan of the missionary's sword in the background to declare:

"Impossible or at least highly unlikely."

As soon as he was finished the picture changed again, this time showing the results of multiple discreet scans in different manners and from different angles, at least a dozen scans of the broad sabre with the heavy guard floating between the gathered Councillors. Standing up Valern reaches out and touches the blade, opening a closer scan which seemed to zoom closer and closer on the honed edge of the sword, until he could declare simply:

"Monocular."

But before his colleges could say anything the picture moved out once more, this time showing the whole length of the sabres blade and moving closer and closer to the edge of it, until small scratches were visible in the metal alloy.

"Small signs of wear, Alloy unknown, technique of production: unknown. Age when comparing signs of usage with projected hardness of the alloy: more than two thousand years of constant or at least regular use in combat situations."

Seeing the looks in his colleagues eyes he quickly added:

"Two thousand is the most…pessimistic estimate, if the hardness of the metal is rated even higher the time can go up to four thousand years: it's an estimation and the only precise answer would possible come from its owner, if she herself does know the story of her weapon."

Tevos was the first one to gasp out:

"Goddess…. if those numbers are more than simply something your analysts guessed after a long night…then they might be just as old as my people."

Before the other two councillors could also voice their thoughts, Valern stopped them again, this time by switching the picture to show the heavy guard around and above the handle, showing the gold-covered part of the weapon and then moving in closer to show some more scratches:

"Older. The blade seems to be not the first one crafted for hits particular sword and the guard must be at least twice as old with materials even sturdier and as advanced to us, that we have no possible way of replicating or even identifying the components used to create this alloy."

At first disbelief and after a glance down at their own omni-tools to at least look over the data won out of the scans, their features shifted to show pure amazement, even Sparatus mandibles seemed to slack in shock.

"This is not all…"

With a click the Turian seemed to move up and glare at the floating images above their table, crying out:

"Not all? Not all! Just looks at this: Your engineers weren't even able to find out what materials they use, we only know that they are harder than even our own starship armour if the estimations of your specialists aren't too pessimistic! Can you imagine how utterly lost we would be when facing mechanized forces using those alloys as Armor plating?"

With a scowl he jabbed something on his Omni tool and the image shifted to display the handle of the sword once more, but this time it exposed the innards of it and unlike truly primitive weapons, this power sword as filled to the brim with electronics and machines, miniaturized and sturdy at the same time, with some kind of energy source, that didn't seem to need fuel or at least not for a very long time: as the handle was a closed black box and hasn't been opened in thousands of years. Looking at the other Councillors Sparatus hissed:

"I would have never imagined that there would be a day, when I found myself terrified by a sword of all things! A weapon that hasn't seen combat use in the last three centuries and which has only played a major role in the early history of each spacefaring race we know. But here! Here we have a species, which seems to have mastered technology completely unknown and mysterious to us, which still uses them as main weapons. You don't need to say it Valern, but the signs of regular usage you mean are nothing else than signs of combat: what else could make scratches into that kind of material?"

He said and pointed one clawed finger at the image, before sinking back into his seat, with his face troubled and a thoughtful silence spread through the chamber as everyone -except maybe Valern- was trying to come to terms with these new revelations. Finally Tevos, spoke up once more, asking a bit morosely:

"How do you know what "regular" combat use entails for them? For all you know this simply could be a more recent reliquary that has seen some use in the far past and a lot of it at one point, before being taken along by the church they serve."

"Now I'm not sure what to be more afraid of Tevos: what that might say about their religion when a sword like this is a reliquary and openly carried by someone who introduces whole cultures to it or what might have pushed them towards developing swords with the technology at their disposal: what could possible force a modern military into hand to hand combat except urban fighting?"

Nearly involuntary everyone's mind turned towards the two single sentient races, which did not seem in any hurry to discard the notion of close quarter combat and even had some preference for it. For one there were the Vorcha, who thrived under the most hostile circumstances and whose claws were still useful at this age: even if flamethrowers tended to become their weapons of choice more often. For them it was mostly thanks to numbers and natural regeneration, that allowed them to either close up or live in places, that were dark and cramped enough to stop the efficient use of fast firing weapons with smaller calibres to stop them.

The other known race, which favoured melee combat above anything else, were the Krogans, not only because of their tradition, but because they had not only the regeneration to withstand lots of small arms fire, but also the strength to cover themselves in the heaviest of armours: turning them into the heaviest infantry -short of elcors- to stomp over the battlefield.

"The Dagger, Knife or Bayonet is something all of our races had at one point and still retain to this day in one way of another: either as simply another tool or last resort…but a sword is only useful for either emphasizing someone's position in a ceremony -which does not seem to be the case, as the scratches on its surface aren`t neat enough for mere fencing- or as a weapon, which does not need to be reloaded when one does not have any time to do so."

Saying this wasn`t one of the more obviously military inclined Councillors, but Tevos herself, allowing the experience she usually downplayed in this sector to be seen by her colleagues, which quickly caught up to it and Sparatus replied:

"At what are we looking then? What kind of enemy might be able to force an Imperium which seems to possess laser weapons…that…are frankly so refined, that they can be dumbed down and build by a fest students and a chemistry teacher -if the report from Cyrene is true-, after our scientists had declared it impossible? Are we looking at Krogan-like heavy Infantry that is able to walk through small arms fire and as saver in melee than in a firefight with the Imperials, or are we…",

Only for the blue skinned Councillor to pick up again as she remembered the tales from her own childhood, her face showing more and more worry as she said:

"…are they facing an enemy as numerous as the Rachni? My Grandfather was a Krogan deployed in the last offensives of the war and told me of the waves of creatures they had to put down, which simply forced them into melee, as they couldn`t reload fast enough and at least for the bigger ones a single magazine most often wasn`t simply enough…his thrusted hammer on the other hand…"

Anderson and Valern looked at another and shook their heads before the Salarian gestured towards the former officer, allowing him to voice their shared concerns:

"So we are looking at a millennia old Empire -if their notions can be trusted-, which hasn`t meet us yet: either because their part of the Mass Relay network isn`t connected with ours yet and they are behind one of the many Relays, no one has dared to open yet. Furthermore, their lives seem to be dominated by religion and the Imperial Cult can be seen as a state religion…if it's not simply embellishment by the missionary in her sermons. That the missionary uses a sword which is multiple millennia old can be seen as an example for the society`s militarization, if even their religious leaders wear them openly: either to defend themselves or as a reliquary: both possibilities would once more point at a lack of…well pacifism in their religion, or rather the other way: a highly aggressive religion and from bits and pieces we have gathered so far we can`t be sure their conversions always happen voluntary and without "fire and sword" as it was called in human history.",

Getting a nod from the others at this, Anderson looked over to Tevos who added to his words:

"At the same time this Imperium seems to be either in a Crisis or has barely gotten over it: from what the missionary said at the initial meeting, it can be concluded that there are lots of Imperial planets, which feel out of contact with the greater whole at one point or another and have regressed technologically and socially -mind her comment about cannibalism- to a point, at which the missionary`s do not only have to spread their faith but guide the societies back onto a more open path, before technology and the rest of the Imperium can be reintroduced. Such a state of isolation could only happen if the Imperium is close to a collapse and can`t take care of its furthest colonies, which start regressing after losing contact for decades at least and centuries or millennia at most if they really lose all notions of modern technology. Otherwise this also could be a consequence of the Imperium`s Mass Relays being destroyed or shut off, breaking the contact between the core worlds and their colonies."

The idea of destroying Mass Relays wasn`t new and it was known that this might be possible, but even in the Krogan rebellions or the war against the Rachni, neither side dared to destroy Relays: fearing to either isolate themselves too much or loose vast swathes of possible territory to the enemy, if they had another relay leading into the sector. Sparatus once more joined the dialogue, putting in:

"Which would mean that either the Imperials or their enemies have found a way to manipulate Mass Relays, something we do not even attempt or dare on a large scale, even if it's known that Relays can be destroyed. The existence of the Imperium or rather their armament and use of melee weapons does also tell us, that there is an enemy, which is either heavy or numerous enough to force a modern army, with superior weapons to our own -which is quite certain- into close combat quarters regularly and not just in urban warfare."

Valern nodded a bit pained, not able to add much more information's or thoughts right now, but thanks to the sparse data they had on the missionaries and the effect they had on populations: for example, by looking at the statistics for crimes against non-human people…

"Two unknowns and not enough data for the STG to form a better picture, finding the Imperium might also lead to finding their enemy: rather likely that the Imperium itself would be hostile towards the races of Citadel space, except maybe humanity but not for too long."

His words were met by a small questioning:

"The Imperials?",

From Councillor Anderson, who had enjoyed the most cordial relationship with the three woman and was not really surprised as he had seen the difference when they were talking to either him or one of his colleagues, but he was still curious of Valerns reasoning.

"Correct. The Missionary is active on Cyrene, Omega and Horizon: the first and last are human colonies in the Terminus, with a nearly 98% amount of humans in their population, while the parts of Omega they took over - after the quarantine and destruction of the mercenary groups operating in them- were ethnically cleansed by the plague and by a rapid xenophobia in the remaining human population, which banished all but some Vorcha that hid in the ventilation system out of their space. It`s highly probably that the sermons of the missionary, no matter how polite they are worded -for us most likely- or the presence of her Cult are responsible for the xenophobia of the humans living in all three places. If this attitude is so dominant in the state religion of the Imperium, we might find something behind the Mass Relay leading to them, which we would better have never found."

The turian Councillor nodded at this words but then shook his head: after all information is the base of every interaction: military or diplomatic:

"But if we keep the Mass Relays closed and don`t send out expeditions: or rather keep them as slow as they are right now, the Imperium might find us first and if they are truly as hostile as you think they might be, can we risk them getting the first shot at us?"

Even Tevos had to join into that line of thought as she thought about the way they had threatened the Imperials so far and how this did not seem like one of the best decisions they or rather she had made so far: even if it was a only a small appointment and decision after nearly getting killed by a -if Shepard could be believed- ancient self-aware bioship of some kind and having the centre of galactic civilization wrecked. Taking a small breath, she began:

"It might have been a mistake to be so…lenient with them, but at the same time they might be our best chance to create cordial relationships with their empire, if we find it in their lifetime. I think we will need to keep a closer eye on them: with their weapon technology and the…xenophobia which might part of them, we can`t be sure just yet, it might be for the best to control them before their knowledge ends up in the hands of terrorists like Cerberus."

Nodding at the last sentence, after all this was also a particular fear of us own, especially after taking the time to talk with his nephew about the things he had seen and heard on Cyrene:

"I think we will need some more information's about their modus operandi, as such I have brought a message with me: we haven`t filtered it yet but Admiral Hackett send it to me after getting it a few hours ago. It`s the footage from the helm mounted camera of one Operations Chief Williams, currently stationed on Horizon as it happens."

With this announcement he started to manipulate his omni tool and a picture appeared between them: this time it was the view out of a vehicle, with the camera showing the image of one Ashley Williams reflected in the glass. Speaking for not only himself but also the other Councillors, Sparatus pointed at her and asked:

"The Ashley Williams? Who was in the original Crew of the Normandy under Spectre Shepard? What`s she doing on a terminus colony?"

Stiffening a little Anderson replied simply:

"Installing GARDIAN Towers, the System Alliance has given them to the colony to defend themselves against whatever is currently kidnapping human colonies through the terminus…something we can`t openly do something against as any incursion into the Terminus might set of a powder kedge and destabilize the whole region."

Even if he did not seem too pleased, after all there was no reason to send a "hero" like Williams out alone for bringing gifts to a planetary militia or whatever Horizon had, about Andersons silence on that matter, he nodded politely with a:

"Thank you Councillor.",

After hearing the last words: it was nice to sit together with someone who did understood the position the council was in and did not only whine around at every meeting. Anderson picket up on it and shook his head before he continued:

"I do not need to like Realpolitik, but I can understand it. As I said: Chief Williams landed on the planet only shortly before one of the three Imperials, trying to…"

Only to be interrupted by Valern, who smoothly put in:

"…to find out if Shepard has something to do with Cerberus or not, the System Alliance isn`t quite sure about the rumours of her being resurrected yet, even after we gave her back her Spectre Status?"

Anderson exchanged some pained glances with his other two councillors, who merely shook their head: every few weeks the Salarian Councillor trumped a conversation with some information, he or she simply should not have and afterwards each Councillor would find a small dossier on their table with a list of the current weak points and gaps in their security and firewalls. The pain Anderson expressed came more from the circumstances of his first reunion with Shepard after her resurrection: after all he nearly had the whole Presidium barricaded and filled with C-Sec as soon as his secretary announced her and asked for a time to let her in. That he spent the next ten minutes staring in growing disbelief at the decidedly not-death Spectre waiting before his office and reading her favourite magazine, was just as surprising as he small wave towards the camera…which was part of a Salarian Spectres M 98-Widow scope and aiming at her from the other side of the presidium and through two windows. That she simply strolled in as if nothing ever happened and greeted him as if it had only been a few days ago that they had seen themselves -which was kind of the case from her perspective- had done more to make him believe it was his former subordinate, than any tests which were later run on her, before she was officially reinstated into her spectre rank once more…even if she seemed close to glaring Sparatus to death once more….not that his penchant for using finger quotes whenever she was around did help much. Snapping out of the memories and concentrating back on the video they were going to see, he gave Valern a small nod and said:

"Indeed Valern, the STG is still as present as always. And no: even with us backing Shepard everyone else seems to be still doubting her. Now: can I play the video? From what I understand Chief Williams was invited by Sister Marina to take part in a mock battle they were having. Her earlier reports indicated that…"

* * *

**-]Horizon 2185 CE[-**

* * *

…they had built up some kind of pathfinder group for the children of the colony? The commanding officers of the planetary militia were quite petty towards her, not only because she was part of the System Alliance: a government they had tried to get away from because of one reason or another, but also because the GARDIAN Towers were seen as a try to bribe them or make them buy expensive spare parts as soon as they start to use them. That the volunteers in the militia adored her and wouldn`t stop pestering her for autographs or talking about her part in taking down Saren and asking about Shepard like excited children demanding a story, wasn`t really helping their relations. As such it was quite surprising that they were offering her to join them on their trip to the Shrine. A few days after she had first arrived on the planet another ship with passengers arrived, only that this time they were led by a single tall woman in white and red robes, wielding along staff that seemed to be tipped by speakers of all things. At that time she had watched the procession of around two dozen other people, mostly young man and woman or teens, which were quickly welcomed by one of the farmers she had seen on the market a time or two, who had gotten enough hover cars to transport them. Not that they had to travel far, when Ashley had woken up at the next morning, the whole settlement was already whispering about some sort of Cult having arrived and building something on a hill just outside of the town: on land that had been bought by some farmers, who were now exposed as members of said cult and had donated the land to it.

When they had arrived, it wasn`t only her that was distrustful or amused at the whole thing: after all the people living in the System Alliance often expected the colonists out in the Terminus to be either some crackpots, cultists, tinfoil wearers or modern trappers with fur hats and all: as such the Imperial Cult as the group was called was nearly clichè. After the first two weeks not many people were laughing anymore: the whole hill seemed to be a single building site as materials were spilling out of warehouses that had been filled months ago and simply waited for this moment. While some grew even warier at this display of wealth and power -after all she wasn`t the only one to recognize military grade building cement- others only saw the new jobs the building site offered for those, who didn`t have their own farm or were simply craftsman that lived from jobs like those and usually didn`t have much to do with all the pre-fabricated accommodations that formed the settlement. When the white robed teens appeared in the city and started to plant and care for gardens along its main streets, some people were faintly amused by it, while others even joined them and send their own children out to help them. Not that these interactions were always without problems, but the orphans -something which was also known after the first few days of peoples interacting more openly with them- seemed to be more mature and disciplined and goading them didn`t prove as easy as the children from the colonists expected. Expectations were quite thoroughly shattered when the holo-vid of a young freckled redhead in one of the robes went viral on the forums of Horizon: the camera first showed her praying before a gun of all things, before she picked it out of some local kids hands and then emptied the whole magazine down range in short bursts, nearly each shot hitting the centre of the target or the area around it.

That might have been the beginning of the whole pathfinder thing, as the local news spared no time in setting out to find the girl: after all you can only talk about the biggest harvest of the planet so often or about which farmer grew the largest cabbage of the year. As such the local news had brought a small reportage about the activities the Progena -as they called themselves- and many people found themselves impressed by the lessons reaching from agriculture, to minor engineering and survival techniques, under which shooting did also fall. While the Progena were all Orphans, there were suddenly many parents interested in sending their children to the survival lessons and activities of the Shrine and soon they formed a new organization with the help of Sister Marina and some volunteers from the Shrine: the horizon pathfinders.

And right now the car was driving her towards a close forest east of the Shrine, with a few chatting volunteers from the militia exchanging addresses and vids on their omni-tool, while she was inspecting the training weapon they had given them, if they were up to joining the training as a -surprise-. The first surprise had been the wooden stock that was pressing into her palms when she picked the mock-rifle up and then the familiar and equally surprising parts forming the rest of the rifle: ranging from a clearly self-made barrel to the rather familiar parts of an Avenger rifle that must have been cannibalized to create the rest of the thing. Their guide, one of the farmers on whose land the mock battle was taking place, suddenly made the transport stop and she looked up from her glorified laser tag rifle, merely regarding the foam bayonet hanging from her belt for a moment, trying not to trip over it as she jumped out of the car, the small squad of volunteers exiting after her as the excited driver walked past them and gestured toward a hill top not too far away, with a few manholes and a tower on its top. The seven militiaman and woman following her, easily climbed up the little hill…. only to duck as something exploded on their right and showered the tree line only two hundred meters away from them with blue paint. The sudden shouts of dismay and the now blue painted figures standing up in the forest were evidence for this already being part of the mock battle and when the guide moved them into the small post on the hill, she found herself looking at a basic, but easily useable map interface, showing their position as a green dot and red and blue squares which seemed to represent single platoons, each with up to thirty moving dots in them. With wide eyes she looked at the amount of dots and suddenly it made sense why everyone around her was making such a big deal out of this thing: there were nearly three hundred participants of the age 16-19 in this mock battle and if she remembered it correctly one side -red- were the youths not part of the pathfinder's, who had learned shooting from their parents and the other side consisted of the pathfinders with some white dots representing teens from the Shrine intermingled between them. Right now the fight seemed to be pretty equal: both sides had taken cover in the small forests that wind through the flat fields around them, the harvest thankfully already pulled in, and were taking shots at another with their rifles or the mock-heavy weapons they seemed to have: from small paint-mortars to heavier paint-machineguns. As such the scenery, which she could see when peeking out of the post they were sitting in, was one of wonderful natural colors…smeared with blue all over and especially between the trees on the left and right, with a small field and a creek in between, on which human shaped blue prints on the grass were showing the already rebuffed tries of one group or another to cross the open field in a try to get into the small creek in search for cover.

With a dull thump another trio of grenades flew from the mortars the Eastown rangers -something like that was the platoons name- had set up in their small patch of trees and two of them impacted right in the middle of the green square in the forest opposite of them and brought the number of their dots down to barely six, with the rest of the group thoroughly showered in blue. The third grenade fell far shorter, right between the creek and the forest of the pathfinder group: suddenly blooming up into thick white smoke, which obstructed the view and the few small laser-tag shots the pathfinders training weapons let loose, barely stopped the rangers from letting out a cheer, as they broke out of the forest and ran towards the creek: the few shots from the pathfinders flying wide and their red beams barely visible.

"Hey. What`s that?",

For a moment Ashley was confused until she noticed it had been her own voice that had said those words: making her look up as she heard…something? It reminded her a bit of the sound a heart was making if you leaned down to listen on some one's chest: a faint ba da bum, ba da dum…fairly slow but then it was…picking up? The sound grew louder and louder, different sources seemingly falling out of sync as the same beating effect spread out and turned into a noise whole: as if a marching troop had dissolved into a stampede. Suddenly someone cursed behind her:

"Some idiot must have left their pasture open and now the horses are out."

As everyone was looking around, trying to spot the runaway horses a group of white dots appeared on the monitor and was quickly closing in to the creek, moving past the small rest of green dots faster than any of the other dots had moved before: even the red ones still sprinting towards the creek where moving at a snail's pace compared to the twelve white dots seemingly intend on running right into them. When the rangers where only a few meters away from the creek they suddenly seemed to stop or at least slow down as they looked confused at the smoke, some walking to the side as the sound of galloping horses was becoming louder and louder and no one wanted to be overrun by some lost horses of all things.

That worry quickly faded as the first horse pushed through the smoke, its head covered in a thigh and armored gas mask, its fur partly covered by armor and a dark grey armored figure riding on its back, with twelve pistol shots flying out and hitting four of the rangers, making their armors register the hit and taking them out of the fight…not that this was helping them as they cried out in panic and threw themselves to the side, the thundering horses jumping over the small creek and landing in the platoon with their riders. Some of them cried out as foam swords came down on them and each hit took one of them out of the training as the cries soon turned to panic as they ran from side to side, trying to get away from the tall horses and their stomping hooves. One or two rangers seemed to turn and try to fire, but the horses and riders only seemed to be taken out after half a dozen shots at minimum and even then, they became prime target for the pistols of the other dark grey riders and in a matter of seconds the platoon was dispending the teenagers trying to get away from the horses and their riders, even as they cried out about the unfairness and got a foam sword to the back of face as the riders simply came up to them and shooed them away, not even giving them a chance to turn around and fight. At first it was surreal…but then someone started to laugh and Ashley only had to turn slightly to see the other militiaman starting to laugh and shake their head at the display of a successful cavalry charge…well if they were only using training ammunition…

* * *

**-][-**

* * *

Looking from one another the Councilors closed the video once more and Sparatus simply said:

"Cavalry? On Horseback?"

The others nodded lightly and Tevos said a bit thoughtfully:

"Like Kakliosaurs? They helped the Krogans in the war against the Rachni, by being able to be used even under conditions that were pure poison for all kind of vehicles. Normal horses might not be as useful but…maybe they have something similar? Or created something similar? Breeding is an option that might lead to surprising results even without genetic manipulation…soo…"

She looked at her fellow councilors and they all exchanged uneasy glances before nodding as one:

**"We will keep watching them."**

* * *

**To the Readers:**

* * *

First of all: Sorry that the new chapter took so long: I kinda scraped my first three tries on it and then did my best to ignore -which wasn`t that hard with my university taking all my time for preparing presentations and essays- but then I had some time and wanted to finish it for Christmas which...obviously did not work out thanks to having to bake and run from one invitation to another. Now I`m at least able to finish it before the new year starts and as such I want to wish everyone a Happy New Year and a good start into the year 2016!

**Qinetiq:** We spoke about it in private messaging: for everyone else: Thanks for critic, I`m trying to keep it in mind and use it. And with things going W-A-A-A-Y over the top...well this is the Mass Effect Universe...but now with some 40k...and we all know what happens if things seem to look up in the 41th Millenium.

**Lord Anime:** Thank you, but as said before: those three is everyone from 40k the ME Universe will be exposed to.

**wolf girl811:** Who knows? She`s a soldier, a hero...and quite broken.

**Jouaint:** Thanks and no.

**Asqwerty3345:** Ohhh you are kinda responsible for the chapter above but...it will take some time more...

Cyricist001: I think details are something I can continue working in...as for the combat scenes: well I`m also favoring politics and social shifts and clashes...but I`m also often getting asked for more combat scenes so...I kinda dabble into them, I try to get better.

**douchiesnacks:** Thanks as always!

**OBSERVER01:** How do you call it if you recruit an army inside the terretority of a state without having the authority or permission for it? Read the first few lines of the Res Gestea at some time ;)

_**a Guest:**_ Yup~

**Poliamida:** You do have to think big~ Maybe not right away but in the near future...

Thank you, you were right spot on, on what I was trying to do...the Sisters are not nice...and they are not making things better. I`m trying to improve myself with my battle-scenes and I hope I might at one point reach a point, where you won`t skip them right away anymore~. And I hope you enjoyed the chapter above.

**Emile-A239:** Okay...lets be more reader friendly. I`m sorry if things like those were left out: I had hoped I might have told enough for everyone to find those things out themselves.

**PredatorPuck:** Not sure how the Nazi thing is working yet...after all the Imperium is quite a good example for decentralized and centralized structures working next to another...not really close fascismn (or other centralist government models).

_**Another Guest:**_ ... fans the fires~

**Lovin it:** ...more issues than one can count...dying isn`t that much of a pleasant experience...and its not like Kelly had much time to work with...or Shepard had any vacation time...

_**A third Guest:**_ Thank you~

**Mark:** Try to keep it balanced~

**prussia:** Well...a heathen is someone not following the three abrahamic religions and pagan is a combat term of early Christians against those of the old faiths in antiquity. I guess I can use both as the Imperium does not really have to do anything with either origin and the derogatory character of pagan does fit quite well from an Imperials perspective on other (false &amp; primitive) religions.

**Big Diesal:** Trying to do!

**E E Merica:** Thanks for Betaing to you~

**ATP:**

(1) Not stupid, simply grown up in another world (universe).

(2) Not sure if I can agree with your characterizations but thank you. And see it like this: Simpli is only the shortening of Simplicissmus~

(3) Thank you! And a Happy new Year!


End file.
